


That Boy

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were very few pupils that Severus Snape wanted to forget altogether; there was only one teacher that Charlie wanted more from.  Back in each other's company, neither knows what the other wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slu64](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slu64/gifts).



Charlie had a mouthful of cornflakes when he opened the letter, written in a hurried hand and covered in ink splotches and what looked like the best part of a cup of tea. He was sitting in his pants at a table in his tiny little kitchen. As proved by George, there wasn't enough room to swing a cat. His eyes slid over the scratches and chunks out of the kitchen wall which had been the result of that experiment. George had come off worse but nobody had particularly blamed the participant feline, who now hissed and retreated whenever any of Charlie's brothers visited.  
  
Hagrid's handwriting made him squint. He sighed around his mouthful of cereal and milk and dropped the spoon back in the bowl.  
  
 _'Please come, Charlie. I've bitten off more than I can chew and you know I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it.'_  
  
There was only one reason why Hagrid would reach out to him from Scotland, knowing that Charlie rarely left his flat near to his new reserve – partly out of reclusive choice, partly because of the reality that the dragons were his life. He was happy in his tiny flat in the Keepers' quarters and happy to spend his days raising the legal first dragons to be born in the United Kingdom for many years. Romania had just been too far away after the war. He missed his family, they missed him. With brothers and friends suddenly in high positions at the Ministry, he'd heard about the planned reserve before he was head-hunted by it. His mother's pride had hammered the final nail in the coffin of his Romanian, far-from-home dream.  
  
Though he missed it, he wasn't unhappy. At least England was warmer and his friends and loved ones were nearer.  
  
Hagrid had dragons. That had to be why he was writing.  
  
Finally swallowing his mouthful, Charlie let the parchment carrying Hagrid's begs fall to the kitchen table. He quickly shovelled down the rest of his breakfast and chucked the bowl and spoon in the sink with a clatter. He paused a moment by the window and stretched. He was due some leave anyway – he had no other plans for it. Plus, there was always a joy in returning to Hogwarts. A tingle of extra magic through his veins, the rush of memories. Old faces and old buildings now infused with the new and the repaired. The school had taken the opportunity after the war to make some additions which Charlie thought would vastly improve the student experience – such as upgraded showers, a re-fit of the Astronomy Tower with an indoor map of the skies so that lessons could no longer be rained off – or have to happen at night at all. Care of Magical Creatures had been given a proper classroom built in the grounds so that Hagrid's Hut no longer played a central role in proceedings, presumably to give the man some peace. They also had proper stables and quarters for other animals to be raised.  
  
Charlie severely doubted there were enclosures for dragons, though. They were still, quite rightly, restricted. Every time he set foot onto the reserve he acknowledged his luck to be able to do so. Every day he stood, charmed by their brutality and beauty, so honoured by his chance to be there.  
  
He dragged his fingers through his hair and winced when they caught in tangles he never remembered were there. The war had derailed his mother from her hell bent mission to ensure that all of her sons had short, respectable hair. Bill had always been excused for being the Precious Firstborn. But now, if anything, Bill's hair was getting shorter whilst the rest of them -bar Percy, despite his bohemian wife- grew mostly feral.  
  
 _Got to enjoy it while we've got it. Look at dad. Half-bald by 40._  
  
Charlie closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled. He rolled his head, trying to ease the tension in his neck. He must have slept awkwardly.  
  
There was no point in waiting. Hagrid sounded desperate.  
  
Plus, there were potentially baby dragons. The best kind.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Remind me, why aren't you firing the fool?” Severus asked, not bothering to look up or remove his forehead from his fingers.  
“Because this is his _home_ , Severus,” Minerva snapped. He just knew she was rolling her eyes and pulling her most insufferable face.  
“He's trying to set his home, ours and our entire bloody school, on fire!” Severus protested.  
  
He allowed the comfortable armchair to support his back at last. His neck and throat were killing him.  
  
“Well, anyway, despite having to concede that Severus is, unusually, correct,” Minerva went on without missing a beat, “For now, we've decided to contact a trusted third party who should be able to advise us without getting the Ministry involved. For now. Or ever.”  
  
Severus had to look up when he heard the mischief in her tone. There was a spark in her eye which he had seen all too often since the end of the war. It made him even more tired than he already was.  
  
“Who?” he asked loudly, crossing his legs.  
“Well-”  
“Who?”  
“We have a contact who works with dragons and we hope he'll take up our offer of hospitality to care for them alongside Hagrid until we can come up with a plausible reason for their presence.”  
“Well, the Ministry are moronic, so you might as well go with 'Hagrid found them in a basket on the castle doorstep'.” He snorted under his breath, because to him, that comment had been funny.  
  
Minerva glared at him again.  
  
“Charlie Weasley,” she said finally, lifting her chin. There was something in her expression which told Severus that she knew how this news would affect him.  
  
Over the years there had been many students that Severus had been glad to see the back of. There were a very select few whom he would have given money never to see again. They were the ones who were deluded into thinking he was misunderstood and that they were in love with him (much to his and everyone else's utter surprise) or those who made his teaching life such a misery that he would have tossed them out by the seat of their trousers.  
  
Charlie Weasley had been a different matter altogether. One of two students, a very special, select and forbidden group.  
  
He swallowed nervously and hoped nobody would notice.  
  
“Well that's it then,” Flitwick squeaked happily. “Charlie'll have this all sorted out and maybe he'll bring some Romanian Plum Brandy.”  
“He's not been in Romania since the war, Filius,” Minerva dismissed with a smile.  
“Reserves, Minerva, he might have reserves!”  
  
The tiny wizard toddled off excitedly, letting the staff room door bang shut behind him.  
  
“Meeting over. Apparently.” Minerva sighed and lowered her notes.  
  
The room filled with chatter around them and Severus stifled a yawn. It was, at least, the Easter holidays. The weather was turning, there were less students in the castle and life, finally, was starting to even out.  
  
“Severus. Charlie will be staying in the empty bungalow, the one next to Pomona's, but she's taken some educational leave.”  
“You mean she's away gratuitously drinking red wine under the guise of collecting Sicilian plants for the greenhouses?”  
“Quite. Much like your trip last year to the south of France.”  
  
He glared at her.  
  
“With her away, you'll be Charlie's nearest point of contact. You need to just be a friendly neighbour.”  
  
Severus started coughing in the depths of his laughter. It shook his lungs and burned his throat, but even with his eyes swimming with tears, he still thought the idea of him being a 'friendly neighbour' was both ridiculous and hilarious in equal measure.  
  
“I'm deadly serious, Severus. Charlie is doing us a favour. He must be made to feel welcome.”  
“Then give him a room in the castle and have the elves look after him. I'm a terrible butler and an even worse good Samaritan.”  
  
After the war, alongside all the other developments which were necessary, the decision had been made to build private dwellings in a private part of the grounds where staff could live year round if they chose. Given that the building was new, warm and missing black mould and a lifetime of miserable memories, Severus had jumped at the chance of leaving Manchester and living permanently at Hogwarts. There were spells which stopped any of the pupils finding the dwellings and there was space enough between houses that Severus didn't feel he had to socialise with anybody.  
  
If Charlie Weasley was lodging next door, however, and Severus expected to look after him...  
  
“No,” he said firmly, struggling out of the low armchair. He paused to straighten his robes before moving for the door.  
“This isn't up for discussion, Severus. Charlie will be arriving shortly. You will be polite.”  
“How about I say nothing at all, and then there'll be no risk of poor behaviour.”  
“Severus.”  
  
Minerva stared at him with her eyebrows raised.  
  
Severus swore under his breath and stormed out of the staff room.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Blimey!” Charlie commented, looking around at one of the new staff lodgings “Are you sure this is okay? I can sleep anywhere, just give me a tent-”  
“You'll do no such thing!”  
  
It was very odd to have the witch who had given him a bollocking nearly every fortnight of his school life touch his arm so kindly and simper at him. Charlie shot her a smile and she practically blushed. This was Minerva McGonagall, the brilliant witch made of stone – or so it had always seemed.  
  
“I'm so grateful you've come,” she went on. “We had everything prepared for you. There are some basics in the kitchen, you might like to cook here rather than eat up at the school. You're welcome to do so, but the elves don't provide food down here. They will visit daily to clean, however.”  
“Does Hermione know you still employ elves?” he asked, unable to keep the grin from his face.  
“Hermione has been instrumental in helping to implement a system whereby they get paid, have leave and beginning to teach them that they don't have to stay in service all their lives.”  
“Are any listening?”  
  
A muscle twitched in McGonagall's cheek as she fought off a smile. “Some.”  
“Some is better than none,” Charlie offered.  
  
He let his bag fall from his shoulder to the floor. He'd expected to be bunged into a poky little room in the castle somewhere, not to be given full lodgings. They'd clearly never been used.  
  
“We built some extras for important guests or parents who needed to stay overnight in the event of injury,” McGonagall explained, seeing his surprise. “And you're very important.”  
“Stop, you'll make me blush.” He unzipped his coat. “Should I just head over to Hagrid's hut now then?”  
“Don't you want to settle in?”  
“I'm used to living with my entire life in a bag or ¬in a tiny space. I don't need to unpack. I'd rather just go and see what we're dealing with here.”  
  
McGonagall stared at him for a moment and then sighed. “If it gets out, Hagrid could face arrest.”  
“What's he done? How did he get them?”  
“You know what he's like, he can't help himself when something fire-breathing is involved.”  
“A bit like me.”  
“Quite. But even you would draw the line at interbreeding tempestuous breeds.”  
“Would I?”  
“The Charlie Weasley I sent off to Romania at eighteen would have!”  
  
He laughed. “Well, that eighteen-year-old is long gone, and his principles are rough round the edges.”  
  
They laughed together then until an uncomfortable silence wedged between them.  
  
“What's he done?” he asked again, quieter and more seriously.  
“Bought some eggs off a stranger in the pub.”  
“Does he ever learn?” Charlie rubbed his forehead with his fingertips.  
“It gets worse. From the shell markings, we think they're crossbred.”  
“Do I want to hear which breeds?”  
“Most definitely not.”  
  
Charlie swore under his breath.  
  
“As I said, we're incredibly grateful that you've come. And please, we don't want to endanger your reputation or your job, so if at any time you don't think you can help any more, just say.”  
  
She gave him a tight smile and made her exit.  
  
Probably because they both knew he'd rather eat his own arm than walk away from a new breed of dragon.  
  
***  
  
“I think you need to up the temperature a bit,” Charlie mused, sitting back in his chair and reaching for his tea. “Just because of the unknown.”  
  
Hagrid had the grace to look guilty as he nudged the crate nestling three huge dragon eggs closer to the fire.  
  
“Got any biscuits?” Charlie asked, suddenly starving.  
  
He'd not bothered to lecture Hagrid. There was no point. From Aragog to Norberta, Hagrid loved animals which most people would run from – Charlie didn't feel he could comment given that he, too, loved those animals and the danger they presented.  
  
Hagrid offered him a slice of cake. Charlie looked at it dubiously.  
  
“I didn't make it,” Hagrid admitted.  
  
Charlie thought to himself as he sat and munched his way through the sweet crumbs, taking sporadic mouthfuls of tea and swishing it around his mouth. Hagrid watched him nervously.  
  
“Okay. So why am I here? You're perfectly capable of hatching dragons, you've done it before.”  
“Never three. Never crossbreeds.”  
“I'm not exactly up to my elbows in those, am I?”  
“No, but-”  
“And I don't reckon they're near hatching yet. I think they've got another week and a half.”  
“Really?”  
  
Charlie nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You can tell by the heat of them. They're not ready.”  
“Oh. I'm sorry. I did tell McGonagall I didn't need you yet, but she wanted me to owl anyway in case you needed time to sort things out.”  
“You know me, I'm the man who drops everything and runs when called. A good little boy.” He rolled his eyes at himself.  
  
Fang approached him his tongue lolling and eyes bright. Charlie immediately opened his arms and leant forward. Fang ignored his attempt at decorum and proceeded to climb directly into his lap. A misplaced paw landed in his crotch and Charlie let out half a yelp.  
  
“Bloody idiot of a dog,” Hagrid muttered, but he was smiling underneath his beard.  
“Ow.” Charlie wrapped his arms around Fang's body and pressed his face into his coat, so that Hagrid wouldn't see the squashed-ball-sac-tears in his eyes.  
“'E always did like you,” said Hagrid fondly, reaching out to tickle one of Fang's ears.  
“He's got good taste, haven't you mate?” Charlie rubbed his back.  
  
He was panting by the time he'd managed to extricate himself from under Fang's weight. The dog immediately flopped into his vacated seat as though that had been his mission all along.  
  
He was all prepared to open his mouth and excuse himself for the night when a strange noise came from the nesting box by the fire. He peered into it and saw one of the eggs nudging slightly from side-to-side.  
  
“Fuck.” He dropped to a crouch and hovered his palm as close as he dared over the twitching egg. It was still too cool to be a hatchling. “Have any of them done this before?”  
“Not that I've seen. But then I haven't been able to be here all the time...”  
  
Charlie straightened and winced at the dull ache in the lower half of his spine. “Well, we know what I'm going to be doing then, don't we? I'll take them to mine. And set up watch. But I've never seen an egg roll like that this early on. Maybe he's cold.”  
“How do you know it's a boy?”  
“I just do.”  
  
***  
  
Despite there being a criminally luxurious bed in the other room, Charlie let a blanket settle over a camp bed he'd found stashed in a cupboard. He'd taken the pillows from the bedroom but even still it made for a poor comparison. But it was close to the Eggs and that was where he needed to be. He'd stoked the fire high and then let it come down to embers. Then, with heatproof gloves, he'd spent some time examining the eggs, holding them up to the light to try and catch a glimpse of what lay inside before finally transferring them into the glowing embers. They'd been still ever since.  
  
The camp bed creaked as it bore his weight. He was shattered after a day of doing very little compared to his usual routine at the reserve. Most of his evening had been taken up with the dragons and his stomach gave a loud rumble. He briefly considered going out for food before he remembered he'd put his pyjamas on in an attempt at accepting that he was going to be housebound for potentially weeks.  
  
He'd seen dragons go up to two weeks post due date and the dangers that posed. He had worked with newborns before and had even had to hatch manually, attempting to cut through the egg without causing damage to the treasure inside.  
  
He stifled a yawn with his hand and forced himself back to his feet. He stumbled to the small kitchen and began opening every cupboard and drawer he could find to see what his options were. Someone had left him an entire home-made Victoria Sponge and a bottle of wine. He picked both up and returned to his spot by the fire. It wasn't the first time he'd eaten such a dinner.  
  
 _Last time you did this you had somebody with you._  
  
Resolutely ignoring his mind's snide little contribution to his solitude, Charlie unscrewed the bottle top and drank wine straight from the neck. He had a good four mouthfuls in him when someone knocked on the door. Sticking the cake on the bed and the wine out of sight, he weaved his way around furniture and his own mess to the front door.  
  
“Evening Weasley.” The greeting was curt. So curt, in fact, that Charlie didn't need to look up to recognise the speaker.  
“Snape.” He leant against the door frame and folded his arms over his chest. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”  
  
He knew his words would wind the older wizard up tight. Any mention of pleasure would.  
  
Charlie wasn't a cruel man but still enjoyed a bit of fun and a tease every now and then – he was related to the twins, after all. At school, however, he'd rather enjoyed repeatedly pushing the buttons of the quiet, greasy Potions Master, who had always looked so haunted, so alone. Snape had always taken the bait and always seemed so flustered by him that Charlie had come to view it as a game between them, which he nearly always won.  
  
 _Grow the fuck up. That was years ago._  
  
A small cough brought him back to earth.  
  
“Want to come in?” Charlie offered, gesturing over his shoulder.  
“No. I wouldn't have called at all, except for the fact that Minerva will ask me in the morning and these days I try to avoid having to lie to my employer.”  
“Yeah, you've probably had your fill of that,” Charlie agreed with a nod.  
  
Snape's dark eyes narrowed at the dig. It was the sort of look which was enough to plunge Charlie right back into the dungeons and Potions lessons of his youth, stuck in the damp heat with a badly made potion and a big mouth to get him into trouble.  
  
It was also the sort of look which made his heart thump and his body get hot.  
  
 _Some things never change._  
  
Charlie had few regrets in life. One of them was that the tension and spitefulness between them never had the chance to amount to anything. He'd been sure, in his last year, that something was going to happen which would be life-changing and definitive. He'd even made it as far as the stairs down to the dungeon, ready to _make_ something happen, even if he wasn't entirely sure what.  
  
“Dear me, Weasley, your concentration seems to have worsened over the years. I didn't think that possible.”  
“What do you want?” The question tumbled awkwardly out of his mouth and Charlie felt himself blush.  
“To be a friendly neighbour, clearly...” Snape responded, deadpan, and Charlie couldn't help but smile slightly in response.  
  
Nothing got him more hot under the collar than a sarcastic bastard. And he'd walked right back into the company of one of his favourite sarcastic bastards of all time – Severus Snape.  
  
“Well, we should say goodnight then... I've got some eggs to stare at.”  
“I'm sure they'll provide scintillating company. Good evening, Weasley. Be sure to tell Minerva I stopped by. Then neither of us will have to see each other again throughout this ridiculous charade.”  
  
Charlie watched the man's retreating back, keeping his eyes trained on Snape until he disappeared into the bungalow next door to Charlie's, several feet away.  
  
It was only when he felt dizzy did he realise that he'd been holding his breath.  
  


* * *

  
  
**1989**  
  
Severus pulled his cloak tightly around his body. December was bitter and a few snowflakes drifted lazily through the air. He just knew that when he surfaced from the dungeon that morning that they'd have their first coat of snow. Hogwarts was especially special in the snow. There had been something in it, the very first time he'd seen the grounds blanketed in white aged eleven on the cusp of twelve.  
  
He stood there on the cusp of thirty and knew that the view would be no less beautiful, but there would be no magic within him.  
  
Beauty had died eight years before.  
  
Suddenly, Severus felt very much colder than before. No cloak would banish that particular chill from his bones. The Firewhiskey he'd just imbibed wouldn't be enough.  
  
Determined that he would not end up in the darkness that evening, Severus tried to push all thoughts of Lily from his mind. Those were for the dead of night, buried deep in his tomb of a dungeon, where nobody could hear whatever emotion might decide to pour out of him.  
  
He concentrated on getting back to the school, a warm fire and another dram of whisky.  
  
“Be gone with you!” a female voice cried out somewhere behind him, followed by rough, drunken laughter.  
  
Laughter that he recognised and sent a shock of electricity through him.  
  
Lily was gone, and though he loathed himself for it, he was human and had been struggling to suppress sexual urges. He'd sworn to himself that there would never be another woman. That was his penance for what he'd done to her – that he'd failed to protect her.  
  
But 'woman' was the operative word there.  
  
His fists clenched around the fabric of his cloak. He'd been fighting hard but hearing _that_ laugh there, at that moment, was too much.  
  
His father would have beaten seven shades of the proverbial out of him if he knew the strength of the attraction that Severus was experiencing towards men. Colleagues, acquaintances, students – men were causing his pulse to thud and his cock to harden. And hearing _that_ laugh was only going to cause him trouble.  
  
He briefly considered ignoring it and heading back to the castle as planned. But if Dumbledore got wind of his indifference to the safety of a student, there'd be hell to pay.  
  
 _He would be safer without my intervention..._  
  
Another chorus of laughter brought him back to his senses. Gritting his teeth, Severus turned on his heel and headed back the way he had come. There were a few hissed swear words at his appearance and the sound of feet thudding over slippery cobbles. By the time he reached The Three Broomsticks, there was only one swaying person still remaining.  
  
“How kind of your friends to abandon you, Weasley.” He folded his arms over his chest and waited.  
  
The redhead had cold-bitten ears and the tip of his nose was red. His eyes were bright with drink. He shrugged in response to Severus' retort and swung his arms by his sides.  
  
“I wonder how many points you can lose for being caught out of bounds and inebriated. Perhaps even the potential for expulsion... dear me, Weasley. Your mother will throttle you.”  
  
From what Severus had heard, Molly Weasley was a force to be reckoned with on receiving an owl from the school about her sons' wrongdoings.  
  
“I heard you already have a place waiting for you at a premier dragon reserve in Romania.”  
  
Charlie flinched.  
  
“And I don't think you're quite brilliant enough for that offer to have been made unconditionally... I suppose it's dependent on some outstanding NEWTs. Well, those are easily removed from your future.”  
  
Finally looking uncertain, the boy visibly gulped and shifted his weight between his feet. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Severus couldn't help but let his lips twist into an evil smirk.  
  
“No thought until it puts what you want in danger. It's very unwise to live your life like that, Weasley.”  
“And you'd know?” Charlie asked cockily.  
  
Severus gaped at him for a moment, hardly daring to believe his cheek – and then he remembered quite who he was talking to.  
  
“Twenty points off for that. Tell me, how does it feel to lose all the house points you win at Quidditch every year simply by being a... a...” Severus lost his train of thought as Charlie started to laugh.  
  
The boy was mesmerising. All that hair, tumbling every which way as his head fell back slightly. Errant ginger curls caressed the side of his face, his brow, his ears. Severus fought a shiver thinking how they would drip past the nape of his neck.  
  
 _Stop it._  
  
“Something funny?” he asked, forcing his expression into the coldest sneer he could muster.  
“The fact that you think house points bother me, that's quite funny.” Charlie snorted in his laughter, which at times became a naughty, dirty little giggle.  
  
It did nothing to keep Severus' mind on the straight and narrow.  
  
“Tell me, Snape...” Charlie said suddenly, sauntering closer. “What's it like to be so frigid?”  
“Excuse me?!” He had rather hoped to shout, but his voice came out as more of an indignant hiss.  
“Always so stiff and prim,” Charlie said. “I wonder how much more fun you'd be if you just... y'know, loosened up a bit.”  
  
He made an odd little wiggle to accompany his opinion and Severus throat went dry. His heart, already pounding hard, worked overtime as Charlie came closer still and, without further preamble, slipped one warm, meaty hand around Severus' waist. For a moment, he was too stunned and too _pleased_ to react. He heard a tiny exhale escape his lips and the redhead seemed to take it as a permission. The other hand touched to his free hip.  
  
“I know how to loosen you up,” Charlie whispered filthily into his ear, and then, causing Severus to actually see his pulse, licked at the tender skin behind his earlobe.  
  
He was so close that Severus could smell his drink of choice and his liberally-applied teenage boy aftershave. It was that, more than anything, that reminded him of where he was and who he was with. Forcing the pleasure from his mind, he placed one hand flatly on the boy's chest and pushed him away. Charlie's face was a frozen mask of disappointment.  
  
“You will never touch me again,” Severus ground out. “And I will be informing the Headmaster of your activities.”  
“What, the pub, or the...”  
“The pub, you drunken moron.” Severus straightened to his full height and threw what he hoped was a reprimanding glare. “Everything else... well, I'll just save that for some future ammunition should it be needed.”  
“Please don't. Nobody knows.”  
“Knows what?”  
“That I like men. I'm... I don't want anyone to know.”  
  
That threw him. Charlie Weasley oozed confidence – on the Quidditch pitch, in the lessons he cared about, as he swaggered about the school with his uniform in a complete mess and his impossible hair all over the place.  
  
“Nothing like this will ever happen again,” he said curtly, and raised his eyebrows to show he was waiting for an answer.  
“It won't,” Charlie assured him meekly.  
“I am your _teacher_ and you have crossed the line, do you understand?”  
“I do.”  
“I do what?”  
“I do, Sir.” Charlie looked down at his feet, his face glowing as red as a beacon.  
“So I should think. Now, are you sober enough to get yourself back to the castle?”  
  
Charlie shrugged embarrassedly and started walking without another word, his steps slow and laboured in the snow which had started to fall heavily during their exchange. Severus bit back his remark of anger and followed at a distance.  
  


* * *

  
Severus was just enjoying the dregs of his coffee as Minerva approached him, apparently finished with her own breakfast and intent on ruining his.  
  
“Good morning Severus,” she said, with forced gaiety. She sat down in the vacant chair next to his.  
“What do you want, Minerva?” he asked, turning a page in the paper.  
“A favour.”  
  
Severus scoffed under his breath and didn't look up from the Prophet. Ever since the war had ended, it'd been one favour after the other - _Oh, please come back and teach to get me out of this bind..._ , _Please stay on until Christmas, it'll be good for the students to have continuity..._ , _Please devote your entire life to this school, Severus, because really, that's what Dumbledore would have wanted..._  
  
He might have made the last one up, but he felt it was only lingering unsaid in Minerva's mind. He avoided the Headmistress's office at all costs so that he could avoid having to speak with Dumbledore's portrait. He'd found that, after all that time, there was only so much he could forgive the old fool for.  
  
“I need to raid your potion stores,” Minerva said airily.  
“What for?”  
“Just put down that paper and talk to me like a normal person would, Severus.”  
“Are you insinuating I'm not normal?”  
“I knew from the second you set foot in this castle as an eleven-year-old boy with your school tie impeccably knotted that you were not normal.”  
“I suppose you think that's flattering.” He sighed and folded up his paper. With a sigh, he turned to her. “What do you want from me, Minerva?”  
“I need the good burn balsam.”  
“Poppy has that.”  
“She said you've been saying you'll brew some for months and haven't.”  
“That old witch ratted me out!”  
“Less of the old, we're of an age, you know.”  
  
Severus felt tired under her disapproving stare.  
  
“And let me guess why you suddenly need an influx of my highly effective and expensive burn salve...” Severus pretended to think. “Are those bloody students burning themselves on candles staying up all night to complete the mind-numbingly easy homework you set them?”  
  
“Why can't you ever just be nice, and say yes?”  
“I am not nice.”  
“Well, why can't you ever just say 'yes', then, and forget the nice?”  
“I've been a Yes Man for much of my life Minerva. I had hoped those days were over.”  
  
Her laugh infuriated him but he chose not to rise to the bait.  
  
“Charlie's struggling with one of the eggs. Gone from too cool to too hot, apparently nothing is strong enough to withstand the heat from it.”  
“Not even your perfect dragon tamer?”  
“Will you brew? Don't pretend you're busy. There aren't many students here and we all know that you did your marking on the first night of the holidays because you're that organised. Organised or anally retentive, I've never decided which.”  
  
The witch got up and brushed down her robes. She nodded to him and then left, leaving the insult stinging in his chest.  
  
He'd planned to have a short visit to London for some supplies, but it was clear that his company for the day would be a steaming cauldron and stinking himself out of the dungeon with lavender.  
  
Minerva might think him bitter and unkind, but he generally did what she asked of him -much to his bafflement and disgust.  
  
***  
The stench clung to his skin and robes, wafting around him as he walked away from the infirmary. He’d given Poppy her potions after a long day of brewing. His hair was plastered to his head due to the intense heat. He never wanted to smell lavender ever again.  
  
A few more bottles clinked in the bag he carried. The night was young and the air looked sweet, but all the same, he didn’t want to go and visit Charlie Weasley again. It seemed that just seeing the boy was enough to set off some old fantasies which he hadn’t known were knocking around in his subconscious. The fantasies had morphed, however, to contain the older, burlier, more heavily tattooed Charlie than those which had occurred when the redhead had been his student. Severus was glad. He’d felt extremely guilty fantasising about a student. There had only ever been two that he’d fantasised about.  
  
And one of them was back in his school, looking ten times better than when he’d been a student, and Severus wanted to stay as far away from him as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

“Son of a bitch,” Charlie swore, shaking his hand hard enough to hurt his wrist.  
  
He was desperately concerned about one of the eggs. He’d spent hours by the fire watching them, so much so that his eyes and head were permanently aching from the glare of the flames. He blinked and his head throbbed. His flesh was screaming in the palm of his right hand. He’d seen it done before, whereby distressed unborn responded positively to handling. The problem was that this particular egg was burning right through his heat-proof mitts.  
  
A knock on the door made him jump. Charlie got to his feet, feeling his joints protest. He ripped the glove off his right hand and looked at the damage as he moved. It had blistered. He clumsily opened the door with his left hand and blew on the wound rather than look at his visitor.  
  
“Evening.” Snape’s tone was curt.  
“Oh, it’s you. Come in.”  
  
He turned away from the spring air and continued to blow on his hand. He didn’t bother to wait to see if Snape followed him. He resumed his seat in front of the fire. He heard the door close.  
  
“When was the last time you had some fresh air?” Snape asked disinterestedly.  
“Can’t remember.” Charlie winced as he flexed his fingers and stretched the skin of his palm. “Shit.”  
  
Snape came closer, making a clinking sound with each further step that he took.  
  
“Minerva requested that I brew you some burn remedy. It seems as though she was right to ask.”  
  
Charlie tried to ignore the way his pulse quickened as Snape sat down next to him. He blew somewhat feebly on his hand. The only thing which would help was the potion that Snape had brewed, but that would mean accepting the man’s charity – even if it was forced charity.  
  
“That looks unpleasant,” Snape said quietly. “Have you had it looked at?”  
  
Charlie shook his head and closed his fist, despite the pain that this caused. There was a tense silence between them until Snape spoke again.  
  
“Will you allow me to look?”  
  
Stoically, Charlie allowed his hand to be pulled to the right for scrutiny. The pain seemed to increase with every passing second, as the burn ate through layer after layer of flesh. He bit hard into his lower lip. The liquid, when it came, was cool and silky. Deft fingers massaged the oil into the wound and, after only a few seconds, Charlie heard himself gasp with relief.  
  
“That’s pure magic,” he muttered, tipping his head backwards.  
  
He suddenly became very aware of Snape’s fingertips caressing the mending skin of his palm, the potion long gone. Snape was touching him of his own free will. Having spent the best part of the last three days alone, Charlie decided not to knock it – to enjoy the bodily contact.  
  
“Are they close to hatching?” Snape sounded like he was asking against his better judgment.  
“Not long now… but I’m worried about the one that gave me this burn. I think he’s in distress but if I hatch him now he’ll definitely die. If I leave him inside he might die. There’s nothing I can do but hope I’m doing the right thing.  
  
Snape had stopped stroking his hand, but instead simply held it in his own as if he’d quite forgotten it was there. Charlie couldn’t help but think about the last man that had held his hand so tenderly. His throat grew thick with emotion.  
  
 _Nothing like a dead lover to kick you in the guts._  
  
Snape released his hand suddenly, as though he had sense what Charlie was thinking. He re-corked the vial of potion he’d used and set it on the arm of the chair. A velvet pouch which clinked was laid next to the open bottle.  
  
“I made plenty. Minerva insisted you have as much as possible to hand. Now I see why.”  
  
Charlie gave a mute nod and stared at the fire.  
  
“Cat got your tongue, Weasley? Unlike you.”  
“I’m just… thinking.” The words sounded disjointed.  
“Then I shall leave you in peace; clearly you need all the brainpower you can get.”  
“Don’t be such a bastard,” Charlie muttered. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t at your best when thinking about your past dead loves.”  
  
The words got away from him before he really understood what he’d said. When he looked into Severus Snape’s face he met livid eyes and a deathly pallor.  
  
“What did you say?” The tone was lethal. Charlie knew that if looks could kill, he’d already be gone.  
  
Snape still had hold of his hand and Charlie felt a fool sitting there with his arm extended, at the mercy of someone he’d severely offended.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Charlie offered. He nervously swallowed and wondered why he felt so bad for saying what he had. “I am. I wasn’t thinking… too wrapped up in myself. As usual, my mum would say.” He smiled, hoping to thaw the frost between them.  
  
Severus Snape looked down at Charlie’s big, calloused, burnt hand. There was a pink, shiny patch in the middle of his palm. Stained fingertips brushed over it again.  
  
“I was not aware that such sorrow had touched you so young.”  
“Well… Perhaps it shouldn’t have, but…” he shrugged. “You love someone once, and you break up… that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when they die suddenly long before their time.”  
  
Again those cool fingertips caressed his recently healed burnt skin. Charlie felt a tingle spreading through him. He didn’t know how to contain it so instead of trying, just kept talking, despite the fact that the subject was a matter that he never discussed with anyone.  
  
“He left me for someone else. And then he came back to me… and then left me again, for someone else entirely. And then… then he died.”  
“He left you twice?” There was something of a sneer in Snape’s voice.  
“I know, I’m an idiot. But… can you truly say that if you were given a second chance with someone who you’d loved so much, you’d turn them away for their past mistakes?”  
  
That question seemed to cut deeply. Snape’s expression slackened.  
  
“No, I couldn’t say that,” he replied softly.  
“Well… that’s where I was. It was his… his embarrassment of what he was that stopped us being together for long or in public. He was sure everyone thought the worst of him already and god knows people did. You’d think we were living in the past, the stigma towards him.”  
“Oh?”  
“Werewolf.” Charlie made a face. “Never mattered to me. In fact I loved him more for it. But he never really loved himself and that was the problem.”  
“Werewolf? Did I know him?”  
  
Charlie met Severus’ dark eyes and knew what the wizard was really asking.  
  
“Remus,” Charlie confirmed, and looked down at his legs.  
“I had no idea.”  
“Nobody did.” He laughed and shook his head. “After his year here… after you outed him to the entire school…” Charlie found he couldn’t help but toss in that particular dig. “He needed somewhere safe to stay. Dumbledore was in contact with me to keep me posted on what particular comings and goings he wanted me to keep an eye on in the Romanian press… He asked if the reserve would be willing to house Remus for a couple of weeks, whilst he recovered.”  
“Recovered?”  
“Did you think that what you did didn’t hurt him? Didn’t completely massacre the little confidence he’d managed to gain in his year teaching? Because it did. It pretty much ripped him to shreds. And even though he was struggling to come to terms with the fact that Sirius wasn’t a murderer and that he was a free man, Remus had no idea where he was… and I was there, a friendly face, a shoulder to lean on. It became more.”  
  
He stopped there. There was no need for his old professor to know everything which had ever happened between him and Remus. But Snape, his brain working fast and showing in his narrowed eyes, wasn’t ready to stop listening.  
  
“And so what? He left you for Black? And then came back after Black died, only to then leave you again for that Tonks woman? And then he went and died?”  
“That pretty much sums it up.” Charlie blinked away moisture that had collected in his eyes.  
  
Snape still held onto his hand.  
  
“Weren’t you close to her?” Snape frowned.  
“She was my best friend and the first girl I ever… well. There were a lot of firsts there. But she never forgave me for going to Romania and there was never any chance of that starting again. And it didn’t help that I no longer liked girls…”  
  
He blushed then, recalling one night in the falling snow when he’d awkwardly blurted his attraction to men and begged Snape not to tell anybody. As far as he knew, the man never had, despite Charlie’s repeated pushing and goading until the very day that he left Hogwarts.  
  
“Such a tangled web you’ve weaved,” Severus commented. He looked sad, Charlie thought, as he finally released the hand he held on to.  
  
Charlie made a fist and clenched his knuckles. The burn, healed but still tender, screamed with the motion.  
  
“I didn’t weave it on purpose,” he muttered finally.  
  
Whether Snape was about to reply or not, both of them were silenced as a huge flare erupted from the fireplace and reached as far as their feet.  
  
“Fuck!” Charlie shouted, throwing himself on his knees.  
  
He heard Snape shouting at him but he had no clue as to what he was saying. Charlie squinted against the glare of the flames which were furious within the grate. He crept ever closer, desperate to see what had caused the flare and the status of the eggs. He finally got a good look at the nest and wished he’d not bothered. Two of the eggs, the two stable ones, were fine, only glowing with the increased heat. The egg which had been burning him and had been so troublesome was shattered and in the middle of it lay the charring carcass of the dead dragon. Without a thought for himself, Charlie thrust his hands into the flames and yanked the whole nest out onto the hearth.  
  
His pulse thundered in his ears and the skin of his right hand was agony. The other still had a fireproof mitt on and was perfectly fine. He choked as he took in the sight of the torched baby, lying feebly amongst the shards of its protective egg, which had failed.  
  
 _Or was it me?_  
  
He was unable to stop the trembling which took over his limbs at the thought that he had failed the tiny dragon, the animal entrusted to his care. Something hadn’t been right with it and he’d known that, but instead of seeking help, he’d been confident of his own skills and ability to hand-rear.  
  
“Fuck.” The word came out as a whimper. He knew enough from experience that he quickly went into shock after sustaining a large burn.  
  
“CHARLIE.”  
  
The shout made him jump; it felt as though Snape had bellowed directly into his ear. When he looked up he saw that the volume was so loud because Snape had done exactly that. He had his wand out and the carpet on which Charlie knelt was thoroughly soaked. The fire was out but smoke and the stench of burning fabric filled the bungalow. Charlie began to cough as his lungs took in the noxious air and his eyes began to water.  
  
He told himself that it was the smoke. That he wasn’t crying over a dragon.  
  
It was such a shame that Charlie knew differently.  
  
***  
“I’m fine,” Charlie said forcefully, for what felt like the fiftieth time since the egg had exploded and set his bungalow on fire.  
  
Nursing his seriously dented pride and confidence, Charlie sat with his injured hand close to his chest. It was wrapped in all manner of potions and gauze; the smell of the ointments combined was making him lightheaded.  
  
“Are you sure you won’t stay here this evening?” The matron was fussing over him as Charlie could remember her doing during his schooldays. He’d been in and out of her infirmary due to his Quidditch stupidity. “I really don’t think you should be alone.”  
“I’m fine,” he repeated, and got to his feet.  
  
His vision blurred and tilted but he tried hard not to let this show. They would never leave him alone if they knew how bad he really felt.  
  
“Well, at the very least then I insist that you stay within the castle where I can reach you quickly if need be. And I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll be straight back with someone to show you to your rooms. Sit back down.”  
  
She gave him a hard push on the shoulder and Charlie couldn’t have remained upright if he’d wanted to. He bounced on the bed and his had throbbed miserably against his chest. Despite all the potions, he was sure he could still feel the flames cutting down to the bone. He winced, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to work or properly nurse Hagrid’s dragons in such a state.  
  
Hagrid himself had taken the two surviving dragons back into his care, and Charlie had been relieved when he’d looked into the half-giant’s eyes and seen tears sparkling there. All anybody around him could talk about was how lucky he’d been that Snape was there, else Charlie could have been dead before anybody knew what was happening. All Charlie could think of was the precious animal he’d let down.  
  
In what seemed like no time at all, Madam Pomfrey was back, fussing over him and talking to him. Charlie didn’t hear a word of what she was saying. What he did know was that she’d brought the worst possible person with her to show him to where he’d be spending the night: Snape.  
  
“You make sure you see him into bed,” the nurse nagged. “And that he takes these.” She pushed several vials into Snape’s hands.  
  
Charlie staggered to his feet and made for the door. He didn’t bother to wait for Snape to follow him, he just walked, concentrating hard on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping his eyes on the floor.  
  
“Just up here,” Snape said quietly, right by his side. Charlie wasn’t sure, but thought there might have been a gentle touch to the small of his back.  
  
They walked up what turned out to only be half of a staircase and Snape opened a door at the top, where the stone curved round and ran into the wall. Charlie had never noticed the stairs or the doorway at the top before. When he followed his guide over the threshold, it was two rooms converted into one large space, with a bedroom at one end and a comfortable lounge at the other. He’d never seen a bed so inviting, especially given as Madam Pomfrey had tried to marshal him into one of her creaky, stiff-as-a-board cots.  
  
“Sit,” Snape said suddenly.  
  
He sounded as he usually did – cold, and disinterested. Charlie obeyed and started toeing off his boots. He struggled and fell to one side. His arm slipped and he hissed at the pain which shot right up into his shoulder joint. He swore under his breath and blinked back tears.  
  
“Stop.”  
  
Charlie obeyed and didn’t move as the man who had been with him when the fire started helped him once more, easing his feet out of his boots and gently helping him to lean back into the pillows. In fact, Charlie barely knew Snape was there, he was so quiet and soft in his assistance. Charlie drank from the vials that were put to his lips without question. His eyelids immediately began to feel heavy and he allowed them to close.  
  
“You’ll sleep until tomorrow afternoon with all this in your system,” Snape informed him. “I’ll leave the vials by the side of your bed for when these wear off. And they will. There’s no point being stoic and refusing to drink them – if you’ve got even one brain cell in that skull of yours, you’ll drink whatever you can get to keep the pain at bay.”  
“I can take it,” Charlie slurred, starting to feel very, very sleepy.  
“I doubt that,” Snape retorted.  
  
Charlie thought he might be smirking.  
  
“Goodnight, Weasley. Next time, try not to kill yourself.”  
“D-dragon.” Charlie was falling asleep and he knew it, but he couldn’t let go.  
“Sleep well.”  
“D-don’t…” He inhaled.  
  
The word ‘go’ came out when he exhaled, but Charlie was gone, asleep. He had no way of knowing whether Snape had heard him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Severus didn’t know why he’d stayed. The burly redhead had been out for the count since he’d swallowed the first potions, and he still hadn’t stirred twenty hours later. Poppy had been in, fussed a lot, taken the boy’s pulse and fretted, and wondered whether to send for his mother.  
  
At that point Severus felt that he had to act. Somehow he just knew that Molly Weasley would be the last person her independent and wayward son would want to see on waking.  
  
He shifted in his seat and sighed. He’d dozed off a couple of times through his vigil and was impossibly tired. Much of the time he’d spent questioning why he was there at all. He wondered if it was the conversation they’d been having before the combustion of one of the dragons, the crazed but devoted look in Charlie’s eyes as he’d stayed on his knees with his hands in fire, slowly becoming intoxicated by the smoke, or the way that Charlie had looked when he’d asked Severus to stay.  
  
He picked at the side of his thumbnail and thought that it was probably all of those things which had made him stay by the bed. The elves had provided him with meals and kept the fire going. Minerva had been in and out a few times, fretting as much as the school nurse, but at last everyone seemed to have left them alone and agreed that if sleep was what was needed, then sleep the redhead should have.  
  
Severus couldn’t have denied, had anyone asked, that he was enjoying the view. As the potions had begun to wear off, Charlie had started to toss and turn in the bed, his hair flying and his mouth forming silent words. A few times he had muttered inaudibly and his brow had furrowed.  
He could never have said that he found the man anything other than attractive. Adult Charlie was simply a finer version of the teenager who had pushed and pushed Severus as a student. He was strong, burly to the point of excess. His hair was mad and yet perfect. His eyes were beguiling.  
  
 _And he is completely and utterly not going to have any interest in you._  
  
Severus ignored the snide remark which came to mind about Remus Lupin. He had never suspected that there was anything between the two. Black and Lupin, well – that was just common sense. They had always worn their affection for one another like badges of honour. And whilst he detested the both of them, when nobody was watching him, Severus had allowed himself to watch _them_ , and to revel in the kind of love that they so clearly felt for one another. He hated them both to the day they individually died, but their relationship was something that he coveted from the moment he laid eyes on it.  
  
Charlie rolled over and his good hand fell free of the covers. Severus took a moment to appreciate it – the long but thick fingers, scars littering the skin, freckles everywhere the scars were not. He became overwhelmed by the desire to touch and to taste.  
  
It had been a long time since he’d tasted someone’s skin just because he wanted to.  
  
 _It’s been a long time since anyone has let you._  
  
Charlie’s presence had been nothing but a burden beforehand, but sitting by the man’s bedside couldn’t help but produce hope. There had been a spark, or at the very least _something_ in the boy’s last few years at Hogwarts. Severus would never have acted on them then, no matter how tempting Charlie had been. But now he was adult and he was gay and he didn’t seem wholly opposed to Severus.  
  
He thought of how, before the fire, Charlie had been content to let him hold onto his hand and stroke the burned skin of his palm. That, Severus thought, would not have happened had there been no attraction or base desire there.  
  
He rubbed his face with his hands; he had always been one to over-analyse, to brood over the small details which others completely ignored. He stifled a yawn and slumped in his chair.  
  
A groan sounded from the bed and he leant forward. Charlie was stirring, his moan a mix of pain and confusion.  
  
“Try to stay still, Weasley,” he commanded, getting to his feet and hovering over his charge. “You’ll be in a lot of pain.”  
  
He reached out and selected his own preferred pain medication from the collection of vials on the bedside table. He worked the stopper free and put it to slightly chapped and pale lips. Charlie drank from it without hesitation, completely trusting of the wizard standing over him. When he had glugged as much as was safe, Severus re-corked the glass bottle and set it aside. He felt as though he had no control over the hand which reached up and touched to the redhead’s hair.  
  
“How do you feel?” he asked quietly.  
“Shit,” Charlie croaked. “Really, really shit.”  
  
Severus acknowledged the fact with a nod.  
  
“How long’ve I been out?”  
“Nearly a whole day. You’ve had the women of this castle swooning by your bedside.”  
  
Charlie tried to laugh but ended up coughing violently, his entire body shaking with the force. Severus reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and carefully pressed it to Charlie’s bottom lip.  
  
“Thank you.” The words were a gasp.  
“They were thinking of calling your mother, but I think I managed to dissuade them.”  
  
Charlie conveyed his thanks with a meaningful look. He immediately began fidgeting, trying to sit up. Severus helped him.  
  
 _Have I ever been this helpful to **anyone** before?_  
  
Eventually Charlie exhaled and leant back against the pillows and the headboard. His pallor had bleached a few shades and sweat beaded on his brow. Severus frowned at him.  
  
“What?” Charlie moaned, closing his eyes. “I know, I look like shit. I feel like shit.”  
“You look dreadful, frankly.”  
“Aw, thanks. Means a lot.”  
  
Severus bit down his retort and placed his hand to Charlie’s clammy forehead.  
  
“Temperature’s up. I’m going to call Poppy.”  
  
There was surprising strength in the hand which caught his wrist as he turned to go. Charlie tugged him back towards the bed.  
  
“No,” he rasped, shaking his head. “No more. I’m fine. Open a window and give me some more drugs. No more nurses or…” he broke off, panting. “Flapping women.”  
  
Severus couldn’t help but give him a small grin. He did as requested, opening one of the larger windows. A sweet spring air flooded inward and he walked back to the bed to pull the curtains back as far as he could so that the air would get to the invalid within.  
  
Charlie let out a relieved moan and sank back into the pillows against the headboard. Severus hovered by the end of the bed, feeling foolish.  
  
“Sit down,” Charlie said. “Just sit down.”  
  
Severus obeyed, perching on the edge of the bed. He suddenly became very aware of his proximity to Charlie and the intimacy of the situation. They were alone and, from the way Charlie’s eyes were focussing and un-focussing with lids twitching, it looked like one of them was delirious.  
  
“You should take more draughts and go rest some more.”  
“Nope.” Charlie shook his head and made a droplet of sweat trickle over his temple.  
“I think I should really get someone-“  
“Please, shut up. You’re making my head hurt.”  
“I can leave if you would prefer?” Severus folded his arms over his chest.  
“No, I don’t want you to go.”  
  
They stared at one another. Charlie once again struggled upright but managed to do so without hurting himself or bringing on a coughing fit. He looked down at his bandaged hand.  
  
“Is it bad?”  
  
Severus didn’t answer. He wasn’t keen to be the bearer of bad news.  
  
“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”  
  
Something in Severus’ chest began to ache as he watched Charlie’s face fall.  
  
“And the other dragons are safe with Hagrid? They weren’t damaged?”  
“They’re fine. And he’s buried the third.”  
  
A hard gulp caused the ache to worsen.  
  
“Thank you,” Charlie said finally.  
“For?”  
“Being there. Saving me from my own stupidity. For saving the other two.”  
  
Severus wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He had simply been there at the right time. He would have acted the same friend or foe.  
  
“I did nothing. Your thanks are unnecessary.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content / Warnings: Language, angst, anal sex, rim job, much sex.

“Tea.”  
  
Charlie looked up at Hagrid and extended his good hand. The burnt one was curled, useless and bandaged, against his chest. It was still throbbing and he hadn’t dared to look at it since the accident. He knew that his range of mobility in it was severely constricted due to the newness of the skin that Pomfrey had expertly repaired. To be able to use it perfectly would take weeks of practice.  
  
Both eggs were now rocking sporadically in the embers. They were close to hatching and he felt so redundant, nursing his injuries. The school had called on him for his help and expertise and he was failing to provide it.  
  
“Stop thinkin’,” Hagrid said, poking him in the shoulder. “It does no good, Charlie.”  
  
Charlie took a sip of scalding tea to avoid answering.  
  
“I heard you spent the night with our Potions Master,” Hagrid said airily. “Want to tell me why that was?”  
“He was told to stay by Pomfrey.”  
“And we all know that Severus Snape don’t like being told what to do. So why’d he stay?”  
  
Drinking more tea, Charlie shrugged. “Perhaps he felt sorry for me. Perhaps he wanted to laugh at me. Or maybe…”  
“Maybe what?” Hagrid asked, leaning forward in his chair.  
“You’re all about the gossip these days, aren’t you, Hagrid?” Charlie couldn’t help laughing.  
“No, I’m just curious.”  
“Well, curiosity killed the kneazle.”  
  
Hagrid huffed and bit into an Eccles Cake. Crumbs flew everywhere.  
  
“It was nice…” Charlie tapped one finger against his teacup.  
“Nice?” Hagrid was barely concealing his laughter.  
“His company.”  
“What do you want with the company of Severus Snape?”  
“He’s…”  
  
He knew that Hagrid was hanging from his every word.  
  
Suddenly, he was tired of pretending. He’d slept a lot in the four days since the implosion of the third dragon, but it wasn’t enough. His pain medication was muddling his mind and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and nap, knowing that there was someone to feed him more potions and stroke his hair.  
  
 _Wow, that spiralled._  
  
“I like him,” he said simply, keeping his voice low.  
“You’re probably the first one.”  
“I’ve always liked him, even when I was at school… I tried so hard to make him act.”  
“Act?”  
“Y’know… to make him come onto me. Or even do it in rage.”  
“Charlie!”  
“I know.” He groaned. “I’m not proud of it now, but I bloody was then. And I don’t think anything’s changed… I’m still attracted to him and I think he’s attracted to me. No idea if he felt anything when I was a student here. He never acted on it.”  
“And so I should think.”  
“But I’m not a student any more…” Charlie raised his eyebrows and stared into the glowing coals around the eggs. “So... when he spent the night by my bed, it was kind of… nice.” He made a face at what he felt was a weak description of how it had really felt.  
  
They’d fallen into stunted conversation, Charlie sitting against his pillows, Severus on the edge of the bed until he shifted, clearly in pain and feeling stiff, when he leant back against one of the bed posts. Charlie had finally taken another dose of pain reliever and fallen asleep; only when he woke up again with daylight streaming through the windows did he realise that he was alone.  
  
“Heartbreak follows that man around like a faithful dog, Charlie.” Hagrid shook his head. There were crumbs, specks of sugar and the odd currant in his beard. “You don’t need any more of that do you?”  
  
Charlie wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it stung that Hagrid’s words weren’t supportive. For the first time it hit him that he’d been hoping for encouragement to seek something further with Snape. Not receiving it stung, and enough of him stung already.  
  
He gulped down the last of his tea and shifted forward in the armchair. The eggs were still in the embers.  
  
“I’m going to head back to the castle,” he said wearily, struggling to his feet.  
  
He’d never again underestimate how difficult it was to only have one functioning hand.  
  
“Oh, right. I see.” Hagrid looked upset by his sudden exit.  
“I’m just tired,” he explained.  
  
Hagrid opened the door for him. “Just take care, Charlie. That’s all I’m saying.”  
“I’ve done a lot of that,” Charlie couldn’t help but retort. “What good’s it ever done me, Hagrid? What good has sitting back and being ‘careful’ ever done for me? Maybe I need to go back to being reckless and an idiot and see if it makes me happy again.”  
“Well by the look of your hand you’ve already started.”  
  
Anger undulated within him, causing nausea to bubble in his gut.  
  
“Don’t lecture me, Hagrid. It would be difficult to take even if you weren’t the idiot who bought three dragon eggs off a stranger in the pub and then didn’t turn them in when you realised you were over your head.”  
  
The half-giant’s mouth fell open in surprise; Charlie couldn’t blame him for his shock. They’d never had so much as a crossed word in all the years they’d known one another. But as he stood there, clutching his aching hand to his chest, he couldn’t feel sorry for what he’d said.  
  
“I’ve sick of people trying to tell me what’s best for me.”  
  
He turned and started over the grass, feeling too tired to trek back up to the school. His bungalow was still torched and smoky from the egg incident.  
  
He wandered, letting his feet lead him where they wanted. He thought he could smell smoke in the air as he walked past his first lodgings. He ignored it and carried on, until he was standing in front of the door to the bungalow closest to his. The one which belonged to Snape.  
  
Charlie was knocking before he really thought about it. It was the middle of the afternoon. Snape probably had better places to be.  
  
It surprised him when the door opened but nobody appeared to greet him. He cautiously poked his head in and saw nobody within the bungalow. Against his better judgment and sense, he slipped inside and closed the door behind him. The entire house smelt of the herby scent which clung to Snape. It was warm and decorated plainly but with class. All the furniture was made out of the same, almost black-coloured wood. One long wall was filled with books from top to bottom. Doors led off the room as they did in his bungalow. Charlie’s mind thought briefly about exploring them but the huge sofa looked too inviting to abandon.  
  
He sank into it and moaned. Slumping sideways, he closed his eyes. All around him, the air smelt of Snape.  
  
With no conscious effort at all, Charlie fell asleep.  
  
***  
“Wake up!”  
  
Charlie did just that, jerking out of sleep at the harsh voice coming from above. Looking down at him was a very angry Severus Snape. His wand was out.  
  
“Do you not think that I’ve had my fair share of heart attacks over the years?” Severus spat at him. “Do you not think that now is my time for a bit of bloody peace and _QUIET_?”  
“I’m sorry.” The words slurred and Charlie curled his tongue to try and entice it to work properly.  
“What the hell are you doing in my house, Weasley?”  
  
Charlie tried to sit up but only flopped uselessly on the settee. He groaned as the candles of the bungalow seared deep into his eyes. Head throbbing, hand nearly smouldering, he exhaled pathetically and didn’t quite know how to rescue the situation.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, keeping his eyes closed. “I… I don’t know why I’m here. I was looking for you.”  
“And when you found me elsewhere you decided to stay in my house like a big, ginger version of Goldilocks?”  
“Goldeywho?”  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath and Charlie peeked through one eye. Snape was standing with his head bowed, his eyes closed and two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
“An intolerable little girl who walked into a house which did not belong to her, ate food that did not belong to her and fell asleep in a bed which did not belong to her either. In some original versions she was eaten for her crime of trespassing.”  
“Seems harsh.”  
“Life’s harsh.”  
  
Charlie looked up at him then. “So, are you going to eat me, Severus?”  
  
Whilst dark eyes took in his body spread over the sofa, Charlie felt his pulse kick up a level.  
  
“Or something else?” he pushed, licking at his bottom lip.  
  
It was a move which instantly transported them both back to his later years at Hogwarts. Cocky, full of swagger, too cheeky for his own good. He had wondered back then what the simple art of licking his lips did to the Potions Master, but he saw it for himself, looking directly up at the man’s crotch.  
  
“Do you want me?” he asked, voice croaky with sleep and an attempt at sounding sexy.  
“No.”  
“Liar.”  
  
Charlie gasped as his lips were claimed with alarming pressure and speed. His hand burned with pain as he was pulled to sitting and it fell by his side. Tightly gripping fingers framed his face and the kiss deepened. He raised his good hand and steadied himself with a hand on Severus’ back. He could feel the older wizard’s breath racing across the skin of his face.  
  
He felt a tightening of the fabric over his groin.  
  
“I want you,” he mumbled against the open mouth pressed to his. “I want you, Severus. I want you.”  
  
Something in his repeated affirmation seemed to daze Severus. He pulled back slightly, his eyes full of doubt. His lips were the most glorious red, filled with life that Charlie had never seen there before. He watched the blood rush to the man’s face and colour in his pallid cheeks.  
  
Charlie had never wanted him more, if he was honest.  
  
Before Severus could pull further away, Charlie planted his hand between his shoulder blades and pushed until balance was lost and Severus half-collapsed onto him. He sought out his mouth and resumed the kiss, flicking his tongue at the crease in Severus’ lips.  
  
He continued, expecting the rebuke to land at any moment, but nothing came. If anything, Severus grew more animated by the second, swinging one leg over both of Charlie’s and straddling him. He bore down with all his (surprising) weight and snatched hold of Charlie’s good hand and pinned it above his head. The burnt one lay motionless by his side. The grip was iron tight, keeping his arm in place and Charlie had no defence when Severus left his mouth and sank his teeth into the flesh of his throat.  
  
Unable to control himself on being stimulated in one of his favourite places, Charlie bucked his hips and let out a growl of frustration. As he lay panting, he saw something he’d never thought he’d be treated to – the sight of Severus Snape relishing his pleasure. Obsidian eyes glinted in the light and a desperate mouth was hanging open.  
  
“I’ve wanted this for so long…” Charlie shook his head, quite disbelieving that it was happening at all, not least because Severus had looked so very furious on waking.  
“Shut up, Weasley.”  
  
The kissing and frotting immediately resumed. Charlie writhed, driven mad by the friction, the heat and the wandering fingers which were up the front of his jumper and playing with his chest hair.  
  


* * *

  
  
Head swimming, Severus pushed upwards and separated their bodies. Things had deteriorated quickly. So quickly that they were both completely naked on his sofa and his ejaculate was soggy around his softening erection, which happened to be still firmly lodged inside Charlie’s body.  
  
“Oh god,” the redhead panted, letting his head fall back. Sweat ran into his eyes, making him blink repeatedly.  
  
Severus looked at him; his loose, messy curls thrown back from his brow, pupils dilated, throat flushed and heaving with every breath. He’d taken pleasure in kissing every inch of the boy’s chest, his stomach, his thighs and through his pubic hair before extending his tongue and dragging it to the very tip of Charlie’s cock and back again.  
  
The taste was still in his mouth.  
  
Sweat trickled into the small of his back and very suddenly Severus felt revolting. It had been some time since he’d had to deal with the aftermath of intercourse and he had never been very good at it.  
  
“I should…”  
“Nope,” Charlie said, shaking his head. A strong arm wrapped around Severus’ waist, holding him in place. “You’re staying right here.”  
  
Another kiss, more intoxication. Severus vaguely felt like he might vomit.  
  
Charlie caught his lower lip between his teeth and held it. Severus groaned with re-awakening lust.  
  
It had been even longer since somebody had turned him on enough to want another round so quickly.  
  
“Can I stay?” Charlie asked breathlessly, the fear of rejection causing his eyes to darken.  
  
Severus answered by kissing him.  
  
***  
“Exciting news!” Minerva trilled as she walked into the staff room. “We have one baby dragon and the other egg is cracking as we speak.”  
  
Severus looked over the top of the Prophet and raised his eyebrows. “Congratulations?”  
“It’s an amazing sight, watching a dragon be born, Severus.”  
“The ‘miracle’ of birth has always been rather lost on me, I’m afraid.”  
“You’re a man,” someone supplied unhelpfully from the back of the room.  
“Nonsense, both Charlie and Hagrid are transfixed down there. Severus is just… Severus.”  
  
She spoke with an air of finality, as if that cleared everything up.  
  
Severus threw her a filthy look and returned to his paper.  
  
Of course, he wasn’t really reading it. He was too distracted as he had been ever since the night he’d spent with Charlie Weasley, having more sex than he could ever remember having before. Severus had never thought himself a prude, or particularly inexperienced – whilst nobody had willingly spent that much time trying to sexually please him before, there had been plenty of opportunity and money in the past to correct that. But on thinking about what he’d done with the redhead, he squirmed where he sat.  
  
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and turned a page in the paper.  
  
Charlie had been so very different. After the first time, when Severus had begun to feel dirty and sought to run, the pace had been almost punishing. Wherever Charlie had learnt his repertoire Severus was impressed by it – impressed and even embarrassed at times. He’d particularly been mortified by losing control all over the front of a sofa cushion as Charlie skilfully tongued his anus, mixing the rough and the gentle, using his fingers to fondle away at tense, trembling genitals.  
  
Severus bit the inside of his cheek as he remembered it, blood racing to his crotch. He rearranged the paper slightly.  
  
Exhaustion had crept in at that point but Charlie had coaxed him back, planting soft, beautiful kisses all over Severus’ body, suckling his cock to the edge of completion and then withholding  
  
Heat flooded him as he remembered their final indiscretion of the night. Charlie had filled him, so completely, and fucked him with powerful, lusty rocks of his tattooed hips.  
  
His hands began to shake and rattled the paper. Severus immediately folded it up and slammed it down in his lap, hoping to hide whatever might be growing there. He was very hot. It felt like there was no air in the staff room. He tried to discretely fan himself but it was no good. Sweat prickled at his collar and on his scalp.  
  
As inconspicuously as he could, he stood up and made for the door. He had has his hand on the handle and searing sense of victory when he heard his name called.  
  
“What?” he asked bluntly, opening the door for a quick exit.  
“I was just saying, you should go and see Charlie and the dragons.” Minerva looked at him with narrowed yes. “Are you quite alright, Severus?”  
“I’m fine. I’ll see them another time.”  
“You look unwell.”  
“I’m fine,” he repeated, and left without giving her the chance to question him further.  
  
He hurried along the blissfully cool corridors, the temperature dropping with each floor that he descended. It seemed as though every fibre of him was alive – every muscle, every joint, every bone was humming with warmth at the memory of the night he’d spent with Charlie Weasley.  
  
It was all rising within, seemingly headed to the point of explosion. He slipped out of the castle entrance and broke into a run, almost stumbling down the steps and onto the grass. He couldn’t bear to think what he might look like, streaking across the lawns without any heed for the paths or the carefully tended grass. His pulse thundered in his ears as he picked up speed, heading for the cottage and the wonderful privacy of a closed and locked door. In the corner of his eye Hagrid’s hut rose up from the edge of the forest. He stopped still so suddenly he nearly fell over, but managed to regain his balance with outstretched arms. His breath came in short pants which hurt his chest. The old wound on his neck throbbed.  
  
 _All you’d have to do is go down there, give him a look and he’d know. And then you could have that night all over again._  
  
Severus scrunched his hands into tight fists and swayed where he stood. A breeze ruffled his hair and was cool against his cheeks. With another breath he had turned on his heel, marching toward his little staff bungalow.  
  
The passion, it seemed, was beyond him this time. He was feeling it and Godric only knew that his innards and his mind were being upheaved by it, but he didn’t know what to really _do_ with it. He pulled out his wand as he approached his front door and tapped it hard against the lock. Time seemed to speed up as he entered, locking the door with several charms and dropped the stick of wood on the sofa. His fingers tore at his clothes, abandoning their usual mindfulness as they tugged at the fabric. Like his wand, he let them fall from his fingertips without consideration. Fully naked, he stepped into the shower and turned it on.  
  
He gasped as freezing water drenched his body. With each passing second he waited for the heat to come but didn’t remove himself from the thrashing cold. He scrubbed his face and breathed hard through his nose. Eventually the water began to warm and, with a shiver, he propped himself up with one hand on the tiled wall.  
  
Water trickled over him for a good few minutes before he moved again. He rubbed his free hand over his chest, trying to ease the ache which had risen there.  
  
His arm dropped and his fingers grazed against his cock. He stared at it as if it were the strangest thing to do in the world and then laughed at himself for being so pathetic.  
  
Despite his laughter, he began to wonder when the last time he’d properly masturbated was. He couldn’t remember. That made him laugh even more.  
  
If anyone had been watching him, he thought, they would have called for a Mind Healer. Throughout his laughter, however, his fingers curled unbidden around his growing erection, holding it awkwardly as though they had never done so before.  
  
 _Which is utterly ridiculous, because I had a very good relationship with my right hand at one point._  
  
Cautiously, as though testing the move out for the first time, Severus stroked along the length of his penis. He closed his eyes and stood there in the shower, water everywhere, gently wanking.  
  
He rolled his head in a circle. The room had grown hot with the steam of the shower. With his eyes closed, it wasn’t hard to make the hand somebody else’s – to imagine their presence with him in the sauna his bathroom had become. He whispered something but didn’t hear what he’d said. His hand worked faster, harder, losing care and grace in the process. Tingles ran across his body – down his spine, through the backs of his knees, across his wrists. He felt impossibly and maddeningly alive.  
  
His mind supplied an image of Charlie in front of him, on his knees, face upturned and expectant.  
  
It didn’t take long before Severus imagined coming all over that face.  
  
***  
Four days had passed since his moment in the shower, but Severus was no less twitchy. His agitation only seemed to mount with each setting of the sun.  
  
That was why he was striding with purpose down to the village, where he planned to have several stiff drinks and a harsh talk with himself. The students would return from Easter break within a few days and he knew he was in no fit state to return to teaching with his mind riddled with muscular redheads and the memory of the noise they might make when they reached completion.  
  
 _A desperate moan. Loss of control. Delicious._  
  
Shaking his head to clear it, Severus made fists in his cloak pockets and picked up the pace. The twinkling lights of Hogsmeade in twilight came into view and he was immediately thirsty, looking forward to his first dram of fine malt whisky. The streets were mostly empty, a few shops still packing away their stock. Some people nodded to him in regard. Severus nodded back. He remembered a time when he kept his eyes on the cobblestones and looked up for nobody.  
  
His life had definitely changed for the better.  
  
He heard light chatter coming from inside the pub as he approached. As usual it smelt inviting as he pushed open the door. He reached up to loosen the neck of his cloak but his eyes were drawn to the bar, to the figure of a redhead perched on a stool, drink in hand, chatting to a fellow punter. Severus ducked back in the shadows to observe for a moment. Charlie laughed loudly at something the man had said, his damaged hand still bandaged in his lap. The redhead knocked back the last of his drink and called cheekily to Madame Rosmerta for another. The witch gave him an indulgent smile and, unbeknownst to Charlie, pushed her cleavage closer together as she turned away to reach for another bottle of spiced cider. Severus narrowed his eyes at the scene – the flirting barmaid, the drinking redhead and –  
  
Severus nearly choked on his breath as he saw the stranger that Charlie was talking to at the bar place his hand suggestively on a thick, muscled thigh. Severus knew that because he had seen it naked. He had licked over the muscles and hair right into the man’s groin. Fury rose in his blood like fire. Charlie reached down and put his good hand over the imposter on his thigh.  
  
The next thing Severus knew, he was panting in the cool evening air. The pub was behind him and he had staggered off-path, his shoulder slammed painfully into a tree.  
  
Jealousy bubbled with nausea in his gut. He had never expected to be cast off so quickly. Charlie had spoken as though he wanted more than one night. Severus had kept his distance since because he wasn’t sure if that was what he desired. But having seen the boy with another man, one that had obvious designs on him, made Severus see what he had wanted but not known.  
  
And it seemed as though Charlie had already moved on.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Hagrid, watch your bloody beard!” Charlie cried, reaching out to push the half-giant’s facial decoration out of the flames. “Open your sodding eyes, man.”  
  
Hagrid laughed and patted down the fire in his beard. They were both sitting watching the dragons, freshly hatched and precious, nesting with one another in a bed of earth, ripped up tea towel and several stones which had been heated first in a cauldron and then pushed under the earth to under-heat the nest. Charlie flicked two cubes of raw beef into the nest and watched as they devoured them, tiny teeth snapping and tendrils of smoke curling out of their nostrils.  
  
Both of them were starting to produce tiny bursts of fire and they were only five days old. They seemed to grow every time he looked away from the nest. They’d decided to keep it down at Hagrid’s given that the elves hadn’t quite finished work on his bungalow. Charlie was stiff all over from sleeping on the sofa but was too content with his babies to complain. He’d not had much sleep.  
  
“What do you think will happen to ‘em?” Hagrid asked nervously. “I mean… they’re clearly crossbreeds. And if the Ministry were to get their hands on ‘em, they’d kill ‘em soon as soon as they saw ‘em.”  
  
Charlie couldn’t disagree because he knew that the gamekeeper was right. The laws on dragon breeding were supposed to be watertight. The Department of Magical Creatures had really cracked down following the war, finding that Voldemort had imported all sorts of illegal and unheard of animals for his army.  
  
“They could grow up to be monsters,” Charlie said sadly.  
  
The two magical beasts in front of him went against all of his training and education on the subject. He should never have allowed them to even hatch.  
  
“We’ll find somewhere for them,” he said finally, drinking the last of his tea.  
  
He and Hagrid fell into companionable silence as the dragons licked away the last of the raw meat. The fire crackled merrily in the background and, for the first time in a good while, Charlie felt at peace. Spending the night with Severus had done wonders for him, both in confidence and body. He felt strong again. Alive.  
  
He pushed away the irritating reality that Severus hadn’t come near him at all since they’d parted with a quick, secretive kiss on his doorstep five mornings previously. He’d relived the night many times. The sex had been fantastic. The best he’d ever had.  
  
His cock gave a twitch in his underwear as he thought about it.  
  
 _Not now._ He chided himself mentally and tried to chase the memories of fucking Severus Snape out of his mind. The older wizard made the sexiest noise when he came. Charlie shivered.  
  
Both of them jumped when a hubbub of noise came through the open windows of the hut. Charlie made to get up but Hagrid held out a hand.  
  
“I do insist that you at least allow me to warn my gamekeeper before you tramp into his home.”  
“We have a warrant to search this abode and I don’t need his permission to enforce it, madam. Kindly step aside and let me in.”  
“No, really, I must protest-“  
  
McGonagall’s high pitched objections fell on deaf ears as the door to Hagrid’s hut was pushed open unceremoniously. Charlie bit back a moan when he saw who it was – Aurelius Dervish, deputy head of the Department for Magical Beasts.  
  
“Charlie.” Dervish’s eyes widened as they saw him sitting in front of the two tiny dragons. “What on earth are you doing here?”  
  
Charlie said nothing, knowing that his words would only incriminate him further. His heart started to beat a tattoo on his ribcage. Illegal dragons were most definitely illegal. He could be arrested. Fined. Incarcerated for his part in something which should have had nothing to do with him at all. His career could be over.  
  
“I called him,” Hagrid said loudly. “He was the only one I could think of. I didn’t have time to think or do anything else. They were hatching, see.”  
“We received a report that there have been two dragons on the premises for at least a week, if not longer,” Dervish said, pulling a small notebook from his pocket. He walked over to the dragons, both of whom raised their heads interestedly at the smell of the newcomer.  
  
Charlie watched, sick in his throat, as Dervish crouched down and observed the two babies. A look of fascination about him caused hope to spark, but Charlie knew better than to hope. One of his friends had been prosecuted for owning a cross-bred salamander, and fined a thousand galleons and lost the salamander to boot. This government weren’t the type to play nicely and Charlie knew he should respect that; after all, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the helm.  
  
“Where the hell did you get these?” he asked in wonder. The air in the cabin grew thick with tension.  
  
Neither Hagrid, Charlie nor McGonagall said a word. Charlie wondered if they were even breathing; his own breath had been held so long that he was getting dizzy.  
  
“I’m sorry to have to say I will need to inform the Minister,” Dervish said gravely, pulling out his wand. “This is an extreme violation of the law, given that they look like a cross between a Ridgeback and a Fireball.”  
  
Again Charlie said nothing. The Ministry was no longer full of idiots there because their friends had promoted them; it was full of hardworking men and women who knew how to do their jobs, as Dervish had done by identifying the two mixed breeds of dragon by sight only.  
  
 _Three of your brothers and your dad work for the Ministry, you fucking idiot. What’ve you done?_  
  
He thought of Bill, Percy and Ron, slaving away in Ministry robes, and his father, finally flying high after years of being passed over for promotion. He inwardly groaned. They’d all suffer if their brother and son was arrested for harbouring illegal animals.  
  
“And might I ask who made contact with the Ministry?”  
“Anonymous tip off, I’m afraid. And even if I did know, I wouldn’t be under any obligation to reveal the identity to you, ma’am.”  
“You have an obligation to tell me if a member of my staff is passing private information outside of the castle walls.” Charlie looked between his old Transfiguration teacher and the Ministry employee with wide eyes. McGonagall was puffed up like a chicken, so proud and furious. “I do remember that Delores Umbridge was imprisoned, partly for her misdoings here at Hogwarts.”  
  
Hagrid made a hissing noise at the woman’s name. Charlie had never had the misfortune to meet her, but Ron had told him all he needed to know.  
  
 _Ron. Ron. Ron._ The name echoed in his mind and Charlie bit into his lower lip. His littlest brother was working hard as an Auror. He’d worked hard to get there in the first place.  
  
“I’m afraid that we will have the immediately seize the beasts.”  
“They’re not even weaned,” Charlie burst out. “They need proper care, Aurelius. You know that.”  
“And presumably that was why you were dragged into this farce,” the wizard commented dryly. “What happened to your hand?”  
“Nothing,” Charlie said sheepishly, hiding it behind his back. “Please, let me wean them.”  
“Not possible, Weasley. We’ll approach the reserve down south and perhaps they’ll take them in. They’re against their breeding code, though, so maybe not…”  
“And what’ll happen to them if you can’t find a home?” Hagrid asked weakly.  
  
There was a telling silence and Dervish waved some of his accompanying crew in. “Treat them gently, boys.”  
“They’re not creating yet,” Charlie said miserably. He looked down at the dragons as they cowered low to their nest. “Not properly, anyway. They’ve been feed on raw beef and a mix of goat’s milk and chicken blood.” He gestured to a bowl of pink liquid by the side of the nest. “I’ve syringe-fed them.”  
  
Dervish jotted down words on his pad and finally snapped it shut. Charlie folded his arms over his chest and squeezed, trying to make himself stronger.  
  
“I must confer with the Minister,” Dervish sighed. “And we’ll be back to proceed when he’s decided what he wants done here. The normal procedure-“  
“I think we all know what that is,” McGonagall cut him off. “But I will say to you that should the finger of blame be pointed, it should fall on myself and on Hagrid. Charlie isn’t to be held accountable for this.”  
“Like anyone else in this country, he has a responsibility to report illegal animals. Therefore he’s implicated himself by holding his tongue. We’ll be on our way now.”  
  
The three of them stood in silence as Dervish collected his bounty and ordered his team out of the house. The door closed behind them and only tension remained.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Hagrid.” McGonagall laid a hand on the half-giant’s forearm – it was all she could reach. “We will put this right.”  
  
Hagrid sniffed and said nothing. Charlie looked at the empty table where the nest had been made and felt anger crashing through his blood like a wave.  
  
“Charlie, I’m so sorry you were caught up in this…”  
“Don’t,” he said stiffly. “Don’t apologise. I knew the dangers and I still came, and I stayed when I knew what was going on. He’s right, I should have reported the dragons as soon as I knew about them. I didn’t. The buck stops with me. I hatched them. I started to raise them. Of anyone here, I’m the one who’s most guilty. They’re not stupid, they’ll know that too.”  
  
McGonagall opened her mouth, wearing an expression of regret. Charlie held up his bandaged hand to silence her and made for the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content / Warnings: Language, angst, physical violence

Charlie had heard the expression about the world coming down around one’s ears, but he’d never thought it might apply to him. He’d come close in the aftermath of the Battle, watching his weeping family and feeling the loss of a dead brother. But there’d always been work to go back to, focus on, to bury himself in back at the reserve in Romania, and then at the British reserve when it started up.  
  
But now there was nothing. Screwed up in his fist was a letter from the reserve, informing him of being placed on Gardening Leave until the situation was resolved. He knew that as good as meant that they were preparing to sack him but wanted to make sure they did it properly before they acted. He’d had a vile howler from his mother, screaming about all the jobs he’d put in jeopardy, and calling him some of her choice insults for the second son who’d never been _quite_ as good or as well-behaved as the first.  
  
He groaned to himself and rolled over in bed, clutching a spare pillow to his chest and letting the blankets twist around his body. He’d been right in his assessment – the bed was heavenly.  
  
His little cottage still smelt faintly of smoke but the elves had done an excellent repair job of eliminating all traces of the fire bar the smell. They’d left little scented candles around for him to light to solve that, but Charlie hadn’t bothered.  
  
He felt another clench of his gut and exhaled. The pain had been there ever since he’d left Hagrid’s hut and there was no easing it. Neither painkillers nor eating helped, so Charlie hadn’t bothered to try either again. He’d been locked inside the bungalow for a day and a half.  
  
The reserve was his life – that was the reality of the situation. He lived there. If he no longer worked there then he no longer lived there, either. A double hit of misery and awkwardness. He doubted that he’d be welcome at The Burrow given his mum’s anger. Maybe Bill would take him in, but he had Fleur and the kids…  
  
Opening his eyes, Charlie got the shock of his life to see someone peering in at him through a crack in the curtains. The person had blue eyes and long red hair and a concerned expression.  
  
 _Bill._  
  
Charlie had ignored all knocks on the door since the Ministry had seized the dragons, and it seemed he’d stopped hearing them altogether. Bill was the only person he’d get out of bed for anyway.  
  
He tripped through to the living room, only realising that he was still clutching the pillow when he had his hand on the door to pull it open. He shivered as the wind burst into the room, creeping up the legs of his pyjama bottoms and cutting straight through his ragged old t-shirt.  
  
“Shit.” Bill stared at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.  
“Nice to see you too.” Charlie grunted, and made his way to the sofa.  
  
He kept his eyes on the carpet as Bill shut the door, took off his cloak and sat down next to him. When his brother didn’t speak, Charlie didn’t rush to fill the void.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
“Do I look okay?” Charlie muttered.  
“Nope. You look fucking awful.”  
“I’m not really in the right place for tough love right now, Bill.”  
“Eeeesh, touchy touchy.”  
  
Charlie glowered at the coffee table.  
  
“Mum’s howler got here then.” Charlie knew Bill was looking at the tattered remains of it on the hearth. “She didn’t mean any of what she said, mate. She was just frightened. She’s calmed down now. Even said she regretted sending it, if you can believe that…”  
“I can’t,” Charlie clarified.  
“I made it up, so just as well.”  
“She’s still furious then?”  
“No, I meant it when I said she’d calmed down, but when have you ever known mum to admit she was wrong? Or at least not needed more than one hand to count those times on.”  
  
Charlie nodded slowly in agreement.  
  
“And we’re all fine at the Ministry, so stop going out of your head about that.”  
“You are?”  
“Don’t get me wrong, people are spitting mad. But they’re not spitting at me, or Ron, or Perce or even Dad. Weirdly they’ve left us alone, and even the Prophet haven’t dared to approach for a quote or a dig.”  
“The paper knows?”  
“Everybody knows, you idiot. What did you expect?”  
  
Charlie held his breath. He’d been doing it a lot since. He had no idea why.  
  
“I saw Kingsley yesterday. He’s not happy either, but in private he said to me that he knows you were only acting in the interest of the animals… that’s all you’ve ever been about. But you did break the law.”  
“You don’t think I know that?” Charlie asked angrily. “Gee, wow. I had no fucking idea, Bill. Dragons? I thought they were ten a penny!”  
  
Bill let him rant on, his face calm and collected. He didn’t even flinch when Charlie called him a sanctimonious cunt.  
  
Charlie, at least, felt very bad for saying it.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he finished churlishly, and tried to wrap himself around the pillow against his chest. “I’m sorry.”  
“I know you are,” Bill said sadly. “But… what’s done is done. You have to find a way forward.”  
“Yeah, with no job, no home, no nothing.”  
“You’ve been sacked then?”  
“Gardening Leave. So they’re deciding how best to sack me. They’ve said I can’t return to the reserve in the meantime.”  
  
Bill sighed and slumped backwards into the sofa. “Shit.”  
“You can say that again.”  
  
They sat there in brooding silence. Charlie was cold but he didn’t move, stuck where he sat with his pathetically squashed pillow, wanting to disappear.  
  
“School starts again in a few days…” he trailed off. “McGonagall will want me gone before then. Can’t harbour a criminal with the kids around.  
“She’s as guilty as you are, Charlie. And so is Hagrid. So is everyone who knew about them. Don’t you dare shoulder the blame for this one alone.”  
  
“It’s my fault,” he retorted stubbornly.  
  
Bill’s response was to change tact. “Well, if you can’t stay here then you can come and stay with us. Plenty of room and the girls would love to spend some time with you. Victoire still says you’re the best pony she’s ever found.”  
“At least someone loves me.”  
“That was very bitter.”  
“I _am_ bitter.”  
  
Bill reached over and prodded him in the arm. “Well, I have some news… but I don’t know if it’ll help.”  
“What?” Charlie demanded. “Tell me.”  
“They’ve given permission for the dragons to stay alive and in the country. At your old reserve.”  
“Really?”  
“I think they were too blinded by what they had to be honest.” Bill rubbed the side of his nose.  
“What else?” Charlie asked astutely. “What?”  
  
“How’d you know there was something else?” he asked shiftily.  
“You always rub your face when you’re nervous.”  
“I’m not nervous.” Bill looked away.  
“Tell me,” Charlie demanded.  
  
“I know who it was that reported you to the authorities.”  
  
Charlie froze and his throat tightened.  
  
“But I don’t think it’s a good idea to-“  
“Fucking tell me,” Charlie spat, getting to his feet. “You can’t open with ‘I know who it was’ and then finish with ‘but I’m not going to tell you.’ Who was it? Was it Sinistra? She’s always hated me ever since I chucked that Muggle condom filled with water off the Astronomy Tower when I was thirteen and-”  
“It wasn’t Sinistra.” Bill looked down at his feet. “It was Snape.”  
  
The axis of his world must have slipped, Charlie decided, as the room tilted dangerously around him. His pulse was roaring to be heard.  
  
“How do you know?” He heard the stiff, awkwardness in his voice.  
“I have a good mate in the department. He told me in confidence, so you can’t go about-“  
“I’ll fucking murder him!” Charlie exploded, fury crashing over him like a wave. “I’ll wring his fucking neck!”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Now then, moving on…”  
  
Severus stifled a yawn with his hand as Minerva took her meeting forward. Soon enough the school would be crawling with teenagers again. They were always worse in the last term – anxious, stubborn and randy as all hell. He wasn’t looking forward to several weeks of finding students copping a feel behind every door, corner and tapestry. It was terribly awkward.  
  
 _And full of jealousy._  
  
It used to be envy that teenagers were achieving better intimacy than he was; he suspected that it might be more that he’d tasted the pot and wanted more this year. The prospect was no less miserable.  
  
A crash sounded from somewhere along the corridor and Minerva paused in her spiel about not letting the Gobstones Club get too rowdy. There were voices shouting and suddenly the sound of pounding feet. The staff room door nearly came off its hinges as a mountain of muscle shouldered through it. Charlie was unkempt and half-dressed. Behind him, Bill Weasley hovered on the threshold, his face pale and somewhat scared.  
  
“You!” Charlie roared, heading for him. “How fucking could you?!”  
  
Many of the others in the room gasped at his profanity and blatant rage. Several people got up and backed away, clearing Charlie’s way to where Severus sat by the window in his usual chair.  
  
“I’m going to fucking KILL you,” Charlie shouted.  
  
All it took was one hard tug on the front of his robes for Severus to be standing, face-to-face with the incandescently angry redhead.  
  
“How could you do this to me? Why?!” Charlie rattled his bones when he shook his hand.  
  
The ability to talk seemed to have deserted Severus when he needed it the most. His fingers were limp at his sides. The fight or flight response was nowhere to be seen. He allowed himself to be shaken like a ragdoll by the young man he had slept with.  
  
 _He has every right to this rage._  
  
There was no point in telling Charlie that he’d regretted it the second he’d said it. That he wished he could have clawed the words back. That would be of little comfort.  
  
“Get off him, Charlie.” Bill’s voice was suddenly loud and stern.  
  
Something flickered in Charlie’s amber-brown eyes. His grip slackened and he shuffled backwards, blinking repeatedly.  
  
“I can explain,” Severus whispered, his voice croaky with fright. “I can-“  
  
There was a strangled yell and then blinding pain up through Severus’ nose, eye sockets and forehead. He could feel blood immediately sliding south before the smell floated up. He struggled for breath.  
  
“Charlie! Have you lost your mind?” McGonagall cried.  
  
Severus felt hands on his shoulders steadying him. Someone pushed him into a seat. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his nose was broken.  
  
“Yeah, I have,” Charlie half-shouted. “Because d’you know what? It was him.”  
“Him? What did he do?”  
“Reported us to the Ministry!”  
  
The bellow cut through all the concerned chatter that had sprung up in the full room. Severus became very still.  
  
“Are you happy now?” Charlie rounded on him again but kept a good amount of distance between them. “I’ve been fired. My career is OVER. My life…” He broke off and swallowed hard. “All gone, because of you. What did I do to you, Snape? Was the sex really so bad that you had to resort to this to get your kicks? I’m sorry for being SO _fucking_ mediocre that the great Severus Snape couldn’t find sexual gratification in an eleven-hour fuck fest!”  
  
If the room had been quiet before, it was now deathly silent. They were all hanging off Charlie’s every word. Fortunately Charlie realised that at the same time and stood with his shoulders heaving. Severus could barely see him through rapidly swelling eyes.  
  
“I’m leaving,” he said quietly. “And whatever the Ministry decides fit, I’ll accept.”  
“Charlie, wait-“  
  
But he was already leaving, storming away down the corridor.  
  
“Wait…” Severus could barely get the word out. He tried to stand, to follow Charlie, but his legs were like jelly and he collapsed on the floor.  
  
He’d been punched many times in his life – at school, at home, by Death Eaters, by himself. It surprised him that Charlie’s was the most painful that he’d ever experienced. He slumped back against the armchair he’d been sitting in and hung his head.  
  
***  
Severus wasn’t sure what was worse – the aftermath of Charlie’s extremely well-aimed punch or the ringing in his ears from the scolding which Minerva had delivered once the blood had been mopped up.  
  
His feeble protestations about being the victim of the situation were drowned out by her indignant shrieks for, as she put it, ‘selling them all down the river for pettiness.’  
  
The horrible thing was that Severus knew that he shouldn’t have done it. There was no joy in his little victory – in fact, it wasn’t to be counted as a victory at all. It was all just an incorrigible mess.  
  
He swigged back another mouthful of pain draught and gasped at the pricks of fire which spread through his face. Poppy had mended his nose in an instant, and she’d worked hard on the damaged skin and muscles around it.  
  
Despite the salves and the potions, there was nothing that she could do for his pride. Or his heart. He sat on the end of a bed in the Infirmary, feeling tired.  
  
He felt a fool for ever thinking that there might be any other ending following his little slip of the tongue to the Ministry. How he’d ever imagined anything other than Charlie Weasley socking him one firmly between the eyes. He couldn’t even resent the redhead for it, because if he’d been betrayed like that, he would have done the same thing.  
  
Severus sighed and looked at his face in a mirror sitting on the table at the end of the bed. It was uglier than usual, made worse by the puffy eyes, swollen tissue and colourful bruises.  
  
“Admiring your good looks?”  
  
He jumped and hissed at the pain. The force of the punch had set off his old throat injury and his neck and shoulders were agony. He was so consumed by the discomfort that he didn’t think to look at the speaker. When he eventually managed to glance over his shoulder, his heartbeat kicked up a notch.  
  
“Relax. I think Charlie’s given you enough to be going on with for one day,” Bill Weasley said, walking up to Severus’ level and perching on the opposite bed.  
  
Though he looked calm, Severus found himself on edge. He had never paid much attention to the inner workings of the Weasley brood, but he knew they were as thick as thieves and fiercely protective of their own. He wasn’t sure his facial bones could take another thump.  
  
“Charlie doesn’t know I’m here,” Bill said quietly. “I think I’d have some shiners to match yours if I’d told him.”  
  
Severus looked down at his knees.  
  
“You must have really riled him to get a response like that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him lose his temper so… violently.”  
“Yes.”  
“He’s extremely distressed. He’s been suspended from work and virtually homeless until they decide what to do with him. To make it worse, the dragons are going to live on the reserve but he won’t be.”  
  
Shame coiled the innards of Severus’ stomach. He hadn’t thought anything of the sort would happen when he tipped off the Ministry. But then, he realised, he’d not particularly thought of anything at all, bar another wizard’s hand on Charlie’s leg.  
  
He was suddenly exhausted, the weight of what he’d done bearing down on him and Bill’s azure blue gaze cut deeply into his already battered body.  
  
“Want me to get the nurse?” Bill asked.  
“I’m fine.” Severus staggered to his feet, knowing that he should stay in the infirmary but determined not to do so. “I know my apologies will never be good enough, but you must tell him that what he said in the staff room… it isn’t true.”  
“Which bit?”  
“The part where he implied that he was mediocre. Not enough. That I was not satisfied by our… entanglement. He is entirely satisfying and that boy could never be anything other than special. I’d be grateful if you could pass that sentiment on.”  
“I will if you mean it.” Bill frowned.  
  
Severus gripped the table with the mirror on hard and breathed through the pain in his throat. “I mean it.”  
“Why did you do it, Snape? If there was something on the cards between you?”  
  
He thought about how to respond. “Jealousy. Fear.”  
“He’s going to want a better reason than that, Snape.” Bill got up. “And I think he deserves one, don’t you?”  
“I can’t…” his voice faded. “I’ll write to him. Where shall I send it?”  
“Shell Cottage, Tinworth.”  
“Beautiful place. My grandparents used to take me on holiday there. The beach…”  
“We live on the beach.”  
  
Severus wanted to slap him for his good luck.  
  
“You’ll be able to reach Charlie there. But address anything you want to send to me, so that it actually has a chance of being read by him.”  
  
Giving a nod of assent and wishing he’d not bothered for the pain it caused, Severus turned to leave the Infirmary. He heard Bill’s footsteps behind him and immediately panicked, feeling weak and invalid.  
  
“Let me get the door for you,” was all the redhead said as he passed. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”  
  
He shuffled out into the cold corridor and paused. Bill closed the door and looked at him.  
  
“He tells me he’s liked you for a quite a while.” Bill looked very much like Arthur at that moment, despite his long, flowing hair. “And that he was given cause to think the sentiment was returned, even when he was still a student.”  
“Nothing happened between us then,” Severus responded hoarsely. “Nothing.”  
“I’m not accusing you of anything Snape. I’m just saying that perhaps if there’s been something there for so long, which has survived a war and other heartache… maybe it should be seized.”  
“I agree with you.”  
“Then look, don’t write, come and sort this out with Charlie now. Try and talk to him.”  
“I’m not really in any fit state to do anything but overdose on sleeping draughts.”  
“Well, the morning then. Come in the morning. But whatever you do, don’t let this fester for longer than it needs to. You’ll never repair the damage otherwise. And I think you want to – I know Charlie does.”  
“Oh?”  
  
Bill looked at him for a moment with pursed lips and then took a step closer. Severus could have backed away but he was already against a wall. Bill bent his head so that he could talk almost in a whisper.  
  
“There’s not been anyone for Charlie since Remus died. Did you know that?”  
“I didn’t.”  
“And there’s something in him which is making him act like a lunatic, because he never tried to strangle Remus like he did you.”  
“But that’s probably because Remus never lost him his job.”  
“He’s not yet lost his job – he’s only suspended. He can’t see past the immediate to realise that it’s within the reserve’s best interest to keep him on because he’s essentially raised a new dragon species from birth. I’m pretty sure they’ll take him back. But it hurts too much at the minute for him to look at it properly.”  
“But still… what I did was unforgivable. Nobody here is talking to me at all and they’re quite right to do so.”  
“And you really won’t tell me why you did it? Was it just malice, Snape?”  
“It wasn’t malice.”  
  
And it wasn’t. But it _was_ terror, and rejection and imagined abandonment. Severus would admit that to nobody other than Charlie himself.  
  
“I’ll talk to him,” Bill promised. “And you write to him. If you don’t get a response, write again. Don’t give up.”  
  
Severus wasn’t sure he had the energy to chase Charlie into forgiving him, or at the very least talking to him.  
  
“Goodnight, Bill,” he said softly, before slowly making his way along the corridor.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_ ” Charlie groaned, rubbing his palms over his face.  
  
There was someone hammering in his head. With each blow his skull edged closer to shattering. His eyes hurt and stomach felt acidic. He knew he’d regret that last half a bottle of whisky. Yet he’d still drunk it, hoping to drown his sorrows.  
  
As far as he knew, they were still with him.  
  
There was a crash from the lower level of the cottage followed by irate shouting in fluent French. Charlie looked at the clock. He’d slept in until three in the afternoon. He struggled out of bed and looked through bleary eyes at the guest room he’d turned into a hovel in the three days he’d been at Shell Cottage.  
  
Fleur would crack soon. She’d march in, hit him round the head and tell him to buck up. Charlie had been waiting for it from day one. Bill must have said something.  
  
He shivered as he pulled open the bedroom door and stepped out onto the landing. The floorboards gave him away and creaked; there was a pause in the noise from downstairs as they heard it. Wondering what Bill might try and entice him into doing to make him feel better, Charlie started down the creakier stairs. He watched Victoire race her pet dog to the foot of the stairs. They wore nearly identical expressions of excitement.  
  
“It’s late!” Victoire chided in her most stern voice. “You’re so lazy, Uncle Charlie.”  
  
He stooped to pick her up and kissed her forehead. “I know.”  
“Later, can we fly? Can we?”  
  
The dog jumped up and put his paws on Charlie’s thigh. He staggered and put his hand out to steady himself – the wrong hand. He hissed as pain ripped through his skin and he all but dropped Victoire. She huffed at him and jumped the rest of the way to the floor.  
  
“MUMMY!” She disappeared from sight, her little feet thudding.  
  
Charlie fell backwards onto the stairs and sat cradling his hand to his chest. The dog immediately sat at his feet and panted, tail banging patiently against the rug.  
  
“Afternoon,” Bill said airily, sticking his head out of the kitchen. “Tea?”  
  
Nodding, Charlie pushed himself up and ambled into the room which so closely resembled their mother’s. He sat down at the table and stared out of the window at the beach. It was raining, with thick, steely clouds low to the ground. A chill ran through him as he took in the sea, looking particularly unforgiving that day. Fleur, Victoire and Dominique came into view, walking through the drizzle in coats and wellington boots, sometimes stopping to pick up shells from the sand.  
  
He realised too late that they had left because something was up. Bill plonked a cup of tea down in front of him and took a seat opposite. They both blew on their tea.  
  
“You’ve got some post,” Bill said glumly.  
“Oh?”  
  
It had to be it. _The_ letter. The one which confirmed the ending of everything. He both dreaded and welcomed its arrival – after all, waiting for the axe to fall was excruciating. He wanted it done. Bill put two envelopes in front of him. One was written in formal cursive to ‘Mr Charles Weasley’ and bore Ministry postal marks. The other was addressed to him by his preferred first name only in a spiky black hand.  
  
“I don’t want this,” Charlie said, pushing the non-watermarked envelope back. “Nope, no thank you very much.”  
“Well open the other one, then.” Bill shrugged.  
  
Charlie stared at it, at the green ink and the quality of the paper.  
  
“Doesn’t much look like you want that one, either.”  
“Shut the fuck up, Bill.”  
  
Bill took a dignified sip of tea and said nothing further. With a deep breath, Charlie clumsily got the letter open.  
  
 _Dear Mr Weasley,  
  
It is with regret that we write to inform you of the termination of your employment at the Dartmoor Reserve. We have given the situation much consideration and have reached the conclusion that whilst you have undoubtedly been a valued member of staff at the Reserve since its conception, your recent breach of the law makes it impossible for you to remain in our employment. You are required to return to collect your belongings - including your cat – as soon as possible to enable us to reallocate your cabin to another member of staff.  
  
We wish you all the very best for the future and, should you require it, we would be willing to provide a reference for any future applications you undertake.  
  
Yours sincerely._  
  
He read it several times before dropping the letter onto the table. “Well. That’s that then.”  
“They’ve let you go?” Bill asked in disbelief, snatching the letter up. “What utter cunts!”  
“Such language for a respectable father of two,” Charlie muttered.  
  
He picked at the grain of the table. Numbness was blossoming out from the middle of his chest. Even though he’d been expecting it, even though he’d wanted the sentence to be delivered, the pain was breath  
taking.  
  
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”  
  
He shrugged. “Not your fault. This is all my own doing.”  
“You were helping friends in need.”  
“I was breaking the law. I knew what I was doing.”  
“Well… if it hadn’t been for you, who’s to say that the other dragons wouldn’t have gone the way of the first? That they wouldn’t’ve died without your care? You saved them, at least.”  
  
He had no answer for that. Bill sighed and slumped in his chair. Charlie knew what he was thinking - _’so now what?’_ Charlie had no answer for that, either.  
  
“I think you should read this,” Bill said. He pushed the other letter back towards Charlie. “It might… solve some things. Or at least explain them.”  
“No.”  
“Charlie.”  
“No.”  
“Look, just see what he has to say-“  
“Why?”  
“Because-“  
“Because nothing. I don’t want to read it, Bill. I don’t want to give him another ounce of energy. I don’t even want to hear his name or think about him and I really, definitely don’t want to read his fucking letter!”  
  
They glared at one another.  
  
“Fine.” Bill pulled the letter back towards himself. “I’ll read it.”  
“You open that letter and you’re dead.”  
“Do you threaten to kill all your brothers, or just me?” Bill made a face and stuck his finger under the flap of the envelope.  
“I’m warning you, Bill – if you ever want to fuck your wife again, you’ll stop, because I’m going to rip your cock off and feed it to you.”  
  
It was extreme, but then Charlie felt extreme. He felt battered and bruised and more than a little bit broken. There was nothing to be done about his job, his old way of life. All he had left was an empty future, presumably full of regret for the way he’d fucked up what he had.  
  
He closed his eyes when he heard the envelope rip. The parchment rustled as Bill pulled it out, unfolded it and read it. Charlie chewed on the inside of his cheek to try and stay calm.  
  
The back door swung open and the happy chatter proceeded Bill’s lovely family into the kitchen along with a cold draft. He heard Bill get up and start chatting to Fleur about what to make for dinner. The girls were comparing the shells they’d found on the beach.  
  
The darkness started to make him dizzy. On opening eyes he saw that Bill had put the parchment directly in his line of sight. The letter was very short. It wasn’t even really a letter.  
  
 _’Dear Charlie.  
  
I’m so sorry.  
  
Severus.’_  
  
Convulsively Charlie crumpled the letter in his fist. He held on so hard that his bones ached. An overwhelming need to be alone swamped him and he stood, scraping his chair legs loudly over the floor. He met Bill’s eye as he headed for the door and held his gaze as he tossed the scrunched up letter into the bin.  
  
“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head.  
“Then you’re an idiot,” Bill replied sadly, and turned away to light the stove.


	5. Chapter 5

It hadn’t been hard to slip away. Fleur had taken the girls swimming and Bill was grooming his precious mane in a forty minute shower. Nobody had noticed when Charlie had bolted for the door and not looked back, for the first time in his life running away from a problem he’d created rather than facing it head on.  
  
Even with Remus, when the going had been impossibly tough and he was trying to convince the man of his worth and of the worth of their feelings for one another, he had never felt so low. It had completely unseated him, he didn’t recognise himself. So, without much difficulty, he’d decided to seek some time alone. Bill would never have let him leave if he’d confessed, so Charlie had just packed and gone. He hoped his brother, one of his best friends, would see why he’d left and not be concerned. Charlie had considered leaving a note but decided against it. Too much drama. He’d had enough of that.  
  
There were a good few hundred miles between him and Shell Cottage, but Charlie didn’t really have any idea of his destination. He had apparated, wandered, apparated again, wandered some more and then the sky had begun to darken and the temperature was falling.  
  
In his pocket he had a hundred pounds in Muggle money. In Romania he’d always kept an emergency supply of the local currency and had upheld the practice when he moved back to the United Kingdom. He wasn’t sure where to look for somewhere to stay, however. His first instinct was to go to the back end of beyond, to seek a quiet spot to sit and fester in his emotions and confusion about the future. But it seemed unlikely that he’d remain anonymous there. He craved privacy – to have nobody watching him, to be able to fall apart in peace.  
  
He’d come to terms with it. It was going to happen. At some point he was going to have a strong emotional reaction to the reality of the fact that he’d lost his job and the career that he held so dearly. His skin crawled with rage that he would never smell the forest of the Reserve again. That he would never hatch another dragon egg. Never rear another dragon into a powerful and stunning beast. It was over. All over.  
  
A lump rose in his throat and he burrowed further into his coat. He was tired and his feet hurt.  
  
For the first time in his life, he felt like going to sleep and never waking up again.  
  


* * *

  
It was lonely, being isolated in his bungalow. Minerva had refused to allow him back into the classroom until all traces of the altercation were gone. She didn’t want the students gossiping, but Severus thought that sentencing him to solitude was also her punishment to him. Surly and unapproachable as he might seem, Severus knew that Minerva had twigged just how important the school had been in his physical and mental recovery following the Battle. How just having those daily interactions kept him alert and involved.  
  
His face was an impossible collection of colours, the bruising having spread far further than Charlie’s fist had managed to reach. The pain in his neck and shoulders hadn’t eased either. There was no relief from it.  
  
Alone, his mind had drifted and he’d thought of ways in which the tension might leave his body. They mostly involved Charlie’s large, talented hands and a bottle of massage oil. And a long, hot bath in the deep recesses of the excessive pool in the Prefects’ bathroom. He even knew which taps he would choose.  
  
His bruises and several students separated him from the bath of his dreams. He didn’t want to run the risk of meeting anyone and he certainly didn’t want to seek Minerva’s special permission just to have a bath.  
  
He’d make do in his bungalow and wait it out.  
  
Severus swigged back another mouthful of pain draught and winced at the taste. The liquid burned all the way down into his stomach. There were only another few seconds to endure before it kicked in, taking the edge off the most excruciating levels of pain. He swigged again and thanked god he hadn’t followed his father’s wishes and eschewed magic.  
  
The idea of dealing with pain in Muggle medicine made him want to cry.  
  
The clock chimed and made him jump. Much swearing ensued whilst his muscles protested and strained. His throat gave a low throb.  
  
He wanted to sleep for a long, long time.  
  
Severus looked at the unfolded letter on the coffee table and sighed. Bill had written back to him that not only had Charlie completely ignored his letter, he’d also taken off and disappeared. He’d encouraged that Severus keep on writing, sending owls which would find Charlie.  
  
He had a letter written and waiting, only he didn’t want to send it. It contained the truth, and with each passing day he felt more and more humiliated by that truth.  
  
Even more, the letter contained something which he had never been particularly good at expressing – a summary of his feelings and emotions in regard to the redhead. He wasn’t sure about sending it at all, if only because Charlie’s whereabouts were unknown. He didn’t want to take a chance of non-delivery on such an important piece of parchment.  
  
But he well knew that if he wanted chance of salvaging something between himself and Charlie, then he would need to send it. The letter and its sentiment wouldn’t get there unaided.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Leave me alone!” Charlie groaned, squeezing his palms to his ears and rolling over. He stuffed his face in the pillow and tried to block out the sound of the owls pecking at the window of his little rented room.  
  
Someone would notice soon, if they hadn’t already. Charlie hadn’t been out of the studio flat he’d seen advertised in a post office window in several days. It was so out of character for him to not have breathed fresh air in so long given that he was born to the outdoors. His mother had always insisted one day she’d find him living in the orchard under a tree rather than inside where he should be. He had to admit he’d considered that in his long drift north. It would have been easier but immensely colder. If his little flat stank of his own sweat at least it was a roof over his head.  
  
The pecking beaks against glass cut through the poor barrier that his hands made. He knew he would end up letting them in eventually. It didn’t mean he had to _open_ any of the letters.  
  
Swearing under his breath, he rolled haphazardly out of bed and swayed slightly on his feet as they took his weight. Most of the reason why the birds were so _fucking_ annoying was because his head was in agony thanks to yet another bottle of vodka. He’d become accustomed to the Muggle drink in Romania, where the Muggle world and Wizarding world lived much more closely beyond the boundaries of the Reserve.  
  
When he’d found himself wandering around a Muggle supermarket and found the spirits aisle, there was no question about what he would buy. He’d paid for the room for a week and then spent the rest on cheap vodka and crisps.  
  
He was running dangerously low on both and his week was nearly up.  
  
“Fucking… bastard… shit tip bitchface.” He swore violently as he headed over to the window and kicked an empty vodka bottle with big toe.  
  
It thudded against the wall and bounced off again.  
  
Charlie squinted against the sun as he opened the curtains. It surprised him that it was daylight; he’d fallen asleep at five in the morning and had fully expected to wake up just before midnight, as was his new sleeping pattern. He gripped the bottom of the sash window and pushed it up, staying still as the owls flew in. He turned and snatched the first owl out of the air, untying the letter from the bird’s leg. He went on methodically until each of them had flown back out into the sunshine, chucking each letter onto the floor without looking at the handwriting.  
  
Despite the fact that it looked like a nice day outside, he shivered in the breeze floating in through the window. He moved towards it, deciding he wasn’t quite ready for fresh air just yet, but he couldn’t close it before another owl shot through. It perched on the window sill and blinked expectantly at him.  
  
“Oh, shit,” Charlie muttered. The envelope was scarlet red and smoking.  
  
It was hard to contain the sound from a Howler in a Muggle environment. His wand was by the bed and he was too lazy to rush for it. He quickly whipped the letter out of the owl’s beak and it took off, clipping his hand with an outstretched wing. He slammed the window shut, extended his arm so that the Howler was away from his important body parts and walked over to the small kitchenette. He chucked it in the bin and backed away.  
  
It didn’t even hit the bottom before it erupted.  
  
“ _Where the **fuck** are you? Do you think this is a responsible way to behave and to deal with your problems? Didn’t you think we all had enough going on without worrying about where the hell you’re hiding and if you’re all right? We’ve all done the dead brother and son, Charlie, and none of us want to go there again. You come home and you come home now. Do you hear me? I’m going to kill you when I find you. Grow a fucking pair. I expect you home before the Memorial Ball on Sunday. Otherwise I’m going to register you with the Ministry as a missing wizard – I’ve given you enough time to find yourself, now fucking find a map and come home._ ”  
  
There was a muted bang and tendrils of smoke drifted out of the bin. Charlie sighed and raked a hand back through his hair; his fingers got stuck.  
  
He’d forgotten the Ball. That it was nearly May and therefore the anniversary of his brother’s death and Remus’ death and how everyone, no matter how many years passed, was more emotional at that time of year and how it all still seemed so fresh.  
  
“You are a selfish prick,” he said emphatically to himself.  
  
He looked at the pile of letters he’d thrown on the floor. There were four in total that had come that day. He presumed that one was from Bill, because Bill had sent him a letter every single day that he’d been away. The others he wasn’t sure about. He looked across the floor of the small sitting space and saw all the other letters he’d ignored during the week.  
  
With his head still banging and his toe still throbbing, Charlie dropped to the floor amongst the folded parchment and stared despondently down at all the words he hadn’t bothered to read.  
  
He felt numb as he picked one up and ripped open the envelope. He pulled out the letter and recognised Bill’s handwriting. _’Where are you?’_ Question after question. Charlie continued ripping through parchment. There were more letters from Bill, a letter from George and –  
  
Charlie paused as he recognised the handwriting on the front of the envelope he was holding. Snape. He stared at it for a good long while before he set it down on his knee and reached for another letter.  
  
When he opened the next one, he got a shock. He hadn’t heard from the sender in a long, long time.  
  
 _‘Dear Charlie  
  
Long time no see, huh?  
  
Heard about your little ‘accidental’ hatching of two dragons and that you got the sack from Dartmoor. Their loss mate.  
  
Potentially our gain. You know the laws are different over here – in fact, we’re setting up a new breeding programme to try and introduce some new blood. If you’re up for a change, and you don’t mind the blistering heat and spiders, then reply to me and we’ll get you set up with a job interview out here. I’ve told them you’re fucking amazing and my bosses are chomping at the bit to meet you.  
  
Think about it. Relocation to Australia. We’re right near the beach. We’d love to have you.  
  
Let me know,  
Max.’_  
  
It wasn’t an overstatement. The last time he’d seen Max Williams was two days before he’d left for Romania as an eighteen-year-old, full of the joys of adventure and life. Over a decade ago. To hear from him out of the blue, with a job offer to boot, was unbelievable.  
  
They’d been close at school. A little too close if truth be told.  
  
 _Is there anybody in your life that you haven’t slept with?_ His mind taunted him. It had been a running theme in his isolation, questioning his decision to sleep with nearly every friend he had, or everyone who had ever meant something to him. He’d thought bitterly at points it was a shock that he hadn’t started sleeping with family somewhere along the way.  
  
Chewing hard into his lip, Charlie looked at the letter in his hand – a possible ticket out of the UK and back into a life he thought he’d ruined, and Severus’ letter balancing on his knee.  
  
He was going to read it, it was just a matter of when and how and what the letter might say.  
  
“And he’s going to be at that fucking Ball,” Charlie realised aloud. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.  
  
As Bill had said, it was time to grow a pair. Metaphorically, because Charlie knew he was realistically very well-equipped in that area.  
  
 _Time to match up to the goods, mate._  
  
***  
Hogwarts looked respectfully resplendent. It always did. McGonagall always went over the top for the Memorial Ball, making her castle beautiful and powerful in ways in which it had been unable to be during the Battle of Hogwarts. As he stood looking up at the entrance, highlighted by massive flaming torches, Charlie felt his throat grow thick at the memories which came flooding back.  
  
Not getting word in time. The fear and the pumping blood as he rushed up from Hogsmeade with a small army at his feet. The way the castle had seemed so broken and defeated when he’d first seen it. The deaths which only became apparent on entering. Fred. Remus. Tonks.  
  
He coughed and blinked furiously. Charlie had found himself emotional at too many points for his liking since punching Severus Snape and leaving Hogwarts. Tonight he would not break.  
  
“No matter how many times you see it, it still takes your breath away, doesn’t it?” A voice said quietly on his right. Percy stood in sombre black robes with his soon-to-be wife on his arm. She gave Charlie a sympathetic grimace. “How are you, Charlie? I’m glad you’re back.”  
“I’m all right,” he lied through his teeth. “You? How’s the wedding planning going? Sorry I haven’t been around much.”  
  
Charlie had been avoiding Percy to avoid the discussion of yet another wedding which he would have a fleeting role in. It wasn’t that he was jealous, exactly, except for that he completely was. If anything in his life surprised him, it was that he actually _had_ become envious of those who had settled down, just like all the smug people in his life had ever told him he would. The thought of proving them all right made him want to throw up.  
  
“Come on,” Percy said bracingly. “Time for a stiff drink.”  
  
Charlie bit back his groan. His relationship with vodka had grown ever closer. He was no longer falling asleep without the aid of it, which was a habit he was going to have to kick if his meeting in Australia went in his favour.  
  
He’d replied to the letter, cleaned up the little studio flat and apparated back to Tinworth to grovel to Bill. Relief had flooded into his older brother’s face on finding Charlie on his doorstep again. Word travelled through the family and they all turned up to have a go, gave him a hug and left him alone again. He suspected that was Bill’s doing. Charlie hadn’t needed to say even a word for Bill to treat him cautiously and to give him ample space. He presumed that Bill had told the rest of the family to keep their distance and leave him alone lest he run off again.  
  
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Charlie followed Percy and Audrey at a slower pace, allowing them to walk ahead. He listened to their gentle chatter about the decoration of the castle, glad that it distracted him from his own thoughts, which were full of the dead.  
He pulled at the neck of his robes and hoped he didn’t look too scruffy. No matter what he did, it was impossible for him to look formal with his mad hair and freckled skin and bulky figure. When he tried to look smart he ended up looking stupid but he didn’t feel ready to fight his mother’s wrath by not wearing formal attire to the Memorial Ball. He was looking forward to after the dinner, when everybody was mostly merry or really drunk and nobody cared if collars were opened at the neck or sleeves rolled back to the elbow. Only then would Charlie feel any sort of comfort in his clothes for the night.  
  
Charlie knew that he’d lost weight in the week that he’d been away and that his skin had an unhealthy paleness to it due to all the alcohol and poor diet. Fleur had fussed over him for as long as Bill would let her, lifting up bits of his lank hair and offering him pies, cakes and biscuits.  
  
He wasn’t a fool – the absence of his appetite was worrying him too. All Weasley men had the same voracious appetite, and all Weasley men only lost that appetite when something was seriously wrong with them.  
  
“Just get through tonight,” he muttered under his breath. “And then you can start again.”  
  
The weight of finality seemed to be pushing his shoulders towards the ground. He’d decided that he would attend the ball to keep his mum happy, but in his bedroom at Shell Cottage his rucksack was already crammed full of his belongings. His cat had sat on the end of the bed and glowered at him as he’d packed, seemingly knowing that he planned to give everyone, including her, the slip come the next day. He’d actually sat and had a very long and heartfelt conversation with her once he’d got into bed, holding her warm little body against his chest and sniffing her fur. She mewed at him sadly and Charlie had whispered that he had to leave for a while and that he’d return for her when he could. The reserve had grown impatient and packed all his things up for him and sent them to Bill’s house, including the black cat in a small iron cage. She’d since slotted straight into life at Shell Cottage; his nieces adored her, she was catching plenty of mice for her keep and she even seemed to like the dog.  
  
Still, it had hurt to know that he was leaving her again, and that she knew exactly what he was planning to do.  
  
They entered the Great Hall, moving with the general flow of the crowd. The room looked spectacular, decorated with sparkle and aplomb, and there were many admiring sounds as the crowd dispersed to find their seats. First there always came speeches: Kingsley, no doubt, would give another respectful but rousing speech about freedom, someone would cry in remembering the dead and set everyone else off and then everyone would have to pretend that they had any form of appetite at all to sit through the four course dinner which followed. The staff of the castle were present, as well as the Head Boy and Girl and all the prefects. The rest of the students were in their towers and dungeons.  
  
 _Where is he?_ The thought of the dungeons set the question ricocheting around Charlie’s mind. He looked quickly around the vast hall and then up to the top table. It was full of Ministry Officials, Minerva and –  
  
His breath caught in his throat as he saw him, dressed in black. His nose looked as though Charlie had never touched it and there was no hint of bruising on his pallid skin.  
  
“C’mon, we’re up here.” Ron nudged him and gestured to a large table close to head of the hall. “Wakey wakey, Charlie.”  
“I’m coming,” he replied, but his voice was lost in the din of old friends and families coming together for the first time in a year.  
  
He followed Ron up to their large round table and found the seat with his name in front of it. It faced the top table and he had a much better view of Severus Snape. The man looked up, did a double take and stared at him. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Charlie to return so quickly. Perhaps he was frightened of another punch.  
  
Charlie didn’t have the energy for another fight. In fact, his main mission of the evening was to apologise for the first, make polite amends and then leave as soon as was possible. As long as he stayed for the first part, then dinner, and had a few drinks with his brothers their mother would be happy, and then he could go home and try to get some rest for the long journey ahead. He didn’t have the money to pay for a fancy direct Portkey all the way to Australia. Instead he had planned an apparition route which would be gruelling but free apart from the hotel for an overnight stop. It would take him two days to get to his destination.  
  
“You look so thin,” his mother’s voice rose out of the noise around him.  
  
Charlie jerked back to reality to find that she had her hand on his forehead and was checking his temperature.  
  
“You really don’t look well at all, Charlie,” she said reproachfully. “I’m worried about you.”  
“You’re always worried about me,” he pointed out, trying to smile for her.  
  
She gave him a look which said she knew, in her motherly wisdom, that something was intrinsically wrong with him. Charlie had known he wouldn’t be able to hide it from her so he hadn’t particularly bothered. He could have used glamours to make his skin glow, or spent time on his hair to make it look less of a bird’s nest. But he hadn’t. Who did he really have to impress, when it boiled down to it?  
  
“Why don’t you come home for a while?” His mum’s hand came away from his forehead to cover one of his own on the fancy table linen. “Let me look after you for a bit. You’ll feel better then.”  
“I can’t, mum.”  
  
She sighed and sat back. “We’re all worried about you,” she said, as if that proved that he really should move back into The Burrow for a while.  
“I know you are. To be honest, I’m worried too. But I don’t know how to fix it, to fix me… I don’t think that moving back in to my old bedroom with the too-small bed will help.”  
  
He felt emotion threatening to rise as she put her arm about his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.  
  
“I know you haven’t felt right since the end of the war,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Since Remus died.”  
  
Charlie started. He’d never told his parents about his relationship with Remus. He’d fought damned hard to make sure they’d never known about it. After all that time, he’d still been sensitive about his sexuality when it came to his family. Bill was the only one of them he was ever truly open with, and thus the leak had to have come from him.  
  
“Don’t be angry with Bill,” his mother said sternly. “Don’t. He’s been beside himself with worry about you and in the end, he told me everything… only because I think the weight of it was beginning to hurt. You can understand that, can’t you, Charlie?”  
  
He could. He nodded glumly and looked down at his lap.  
  
“If I had known how you felt about Remus, what was between you, I never would have encouraged Nymphadora to chase him as I did. All I saw was a lonely, lovely man who needed some joy in his life. I wish now that he could have found that joy with you. I’m sorry, Charlie.”  
  
He was glad when a loud clinking rang out from the top table. He sniffed and blinked away the moisture which had gathered in his eyes as his mum had spoken, bringing up the dead from their graves. He rubbed his eyes with his burnt hand – finally uncovered and mostly healed – and sniffed hard. Only then did he feel strong enough to look up at the top table and listen.  
  


* * *

  
  
Severus couldn’t believe how awful Charlie Weasley looked. When he’d first come back to the castle during the Easter break, there had been a glow in his skin and a gaiety in his step which had been attractive to watch. The man sat picking his way through his fourth course of dinner was vastly different to any version of him that Severus had ever had the privilege to watch. He was thinner, his skin bordering on grey in pallor. His hair was lank and hanging heavily around his face – hair which had hitherto had as much bounce as the man’s gait.  
  
It was like looking at a different person. To know that he had caused such a transformation not only put Severus off his own dessert, it twisted his gut and made him nauseous with guilt. Despite that, he was relieved to see Charlie there. He’d had no reply to his letter, but Severus had one aim of the evening – to apologise for everything he had set in motion and then retire to his study with a big glass of whisky to drown himself in. It was the only reason he was even attending. Minerva had offered to put him on the rota to supervise the younger years, the only act of kindness she’d shown him since the incident in the staff room.  
  
She’s looked surprised when he’d rejected her suggestion but had been shooting him knowing glances all evening, looking between himself and Charlie at the Weasley table near to where they sat.  
  
They were a large party with flaming hair and character. Potter sat amongst them with his wife, having refused, as he always did, the seats afforded to him on the top table with his two best friends. The youngest Weasley boy was sat beside Hermione, his wife; they were completely absorbed in one another, not long married if Severus remembered correctly. They looked at each other with such devotion that it made Severus uncomfortable to watch. They were beautiful together. Around them came the other brothers - the broken twin with his dead brother’s past girlfriend; the oldest with his stunning wife; the pushy and pedantic Head Boy with the woman who had mellowed him into a pleasant human being. And Charlie.  
  
It was with relief that Severus saw the dessert plates vanish and floating trays burst out of nowhere with flutes of champagne. There was just the final toast to get through and then he would be free to commit to his task.  
  
He didn’t bother listening to Kingsley Shacklebolt, their lauded Minister of Magic, as he requested that they all stand and lift their glasses. The words of the toast hadn’t changed at all since the first Memorial Ball and thus Severus didn’t feel obligated to listen to it yet again. Instead he concentrated on keeping his hand steady and the champagne in his glass.  
  
The tremors had been getting profoundly worse since his run in with Charlie’s fist. Pomfrey had no explanation for it, other than perhaps stress, said with a sly glance in his direction.  
  
He called out the toast when required and swigged at the exquisite golden liquid that he held. The hall burst into life around him as people stood from their tables so that they could be cleared away. The band struck up a tune and Kingsley led Minerva out to lead the dancing. It had never sat well with Severus that such an occasion should be followed by a celebration, but that was his view and vastly different to others within the community. They saw life and freedom to be celebrated, they saw the lives of the dead to be celebrated too.  
  
Severus had never been very good at celebration.  
  
He finished his champagne and left it on the table. His outstretched arm shook, his fingers wavering in the air. He suddenly felt eyes upon him and clenched his fist shut to hide the tremors. He stood and retreated to the back wall to collect himself.  
  
***  
  
Severus no longer had anything polite to say about the rest of the Weasley family. They had formed such a protective barrier around Charlie that there had been no chance to approach him without approaching the rest of them. Though their table had gone, they remained clumped together bar one or two members. All of them were drinking and had loosened up since the dinner had finished. Charlie especially looked more relaxed, with the collar of his robes wide open, the tie hanging loose around his shoulders and with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He looked, despite his altered appearance, irresistible.  
  
They had shared a few meaningful glances as the evening had worn on but none that had prompted Severus to leave his spot by the wall. He was in knots trying to work out how to get Charlie alone and away from his brood.  
  
Loud calls of welcome heralded the arrival of the other boys from Potter and Weasley’s year and the group became a hive of activity – hugs, kisses and infectious smiles all round. If Severus’ had not been watching as closely as he was, he could easily have missed the beeline that Seamus Finnigan made for Charlie in the crowd. He was the only one of the three young men that was alone.  
  
The hug bestowed was entirely too physical, the grins far too flirty. Severus felt heat prickle at the nape of his neck.  
  
 _Jealousy caused all this._  
  
It was that thought which finally spurred him to pull away from the wall and head for the even larger group of people. He kept to the outskirts of the hall and kept his head down to avoid attraction attention from those who would distract him from his mission. His heart started to thud in his chest and he remembered what Poppy had said about keeping his levels of exertion to a minimum. His palms were sweating as he drew level with Charlie.  
  
He was barely breathing by the time he gently touched the man’s shoulder from behind. Charlie turned immediately, his soft expression giving away his emotions before he could control them.  
  
“Charlie…” Bill’s tone was reproachful.  
“Its fine,” Charlie assured him.  
“Shall we go somewhere more private?” Severus asked.  
  
Charlie nodded and broke away from his family. He straightened as he walked, making Severus wonder if he was actually glad of the break from the noise and forced social activity. They remained quiet as they wove around dancing couples and chatting groups. By the time they passed into the Entrance Hall Severus was sweating and the fresh air flooding in through the castle doors had never been more welcome. They walked down the front steps and both paused at the bottom, waiting for the other to suggest a place to go.  
  
“Let’s walk,” Charlie said softly, cocking his head towards the path which led to the greenhouses and the lake beyond.  
  
They did so, leaving the strains of music and laughter behind them in the castle. They passed a few people who were taking air under a beautifully lit outside area which was decorated with fairies and braziers. It wasn’t long before they were alone, however, and only the darkness and their nerves stood between them.  
  
“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” Severus said finally, pausing as they rounded a corner to a spectacular view of the lake. Moonlight was shining down on the castle as it had on the night back in 1998, when the world as they knew it was crashing down around their ears.  
  
“It’s the only reason I’m here.” Charlie half-shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to apologise for my actions. I shouldn’t have used you as my punching bag and I’m sorry for the damage I caused.”  
  
His words were stiff and formal, as though he had practiced over and over until the meaning and emotion had bleached out of them. Nevertheless, Severus saw the emotion flickering in Charlie’s amber coloured eyes.  
  
He’d forgotten just how enigmatic they were.  
  
“You have nothing to apologise for.” Severus shook his head. “It is I that should apologise, so I will. I am so truly sorry for the pain I have caused you. For the things I have ended which you loved. For… for allowing my jealousy to ruin what could have been between us.”  
“And what might that have been?” Charlie asked, leaning back against the castle wall.  
“I don’t know… but at the same time I know I ruined _something_. My mother always said that something was better than nothing.” Severus stared at him, strapped for anything more to say.  
“My mum says the same.” Charlie’s tight smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway. It’s… what’s done is done, Snape. Thank you for your apology, but I don’t need it or anything else from you. I’ve said what I came here to say and now I can go home.”  
  
Severus didn’t know what he’d been expecting exactly, but it had been more of a reaction than what Charlie had said. He swallowed nervously and clenched his fists. He tried to think of something to say which wasn’t completely inappropriate or offensive, but his wits had been dulled by the freely flowing champagne.  
  
“I thought your anger was painful to behold, but your indifference is far worse,” he murmured finally, unable to stop the honesty from falling from his tongue.  
  
Charlie went very still as the words landed. Severus glanced up at him and blanched, wondering if his nose was about to be broken for the second time that month.  
  
“I’m anything but indifferent,” Charlie replied, his voice shaking.  
  
As he neared, Severus could see tears building in the redhead’s eyes and his cheeks reddening.  
  
“I would give anything to be indifferent, to anything, everything and everyone I’ve ever met. I’m sick of being the person who gets fucked over by others. Tell me, what is it about me which says ‘come screw me, then fuck around with my heart and then piss off when you fancy’? _What is it, Severus?_ ” The last words were hurried and pressured.  
  
Severus didn’t know what to do as he saw Charlie’s tears running over his face. This was not how he had envisaged their final meeting. In his version he was back in his bungalow already, pouring the first of many double measures of whisky. He’d planned to drink until he was sick to purge his body of the poison of the last few weeks.  
  
But there was no way he could ignore the young man in front of him, who he had felt, tasted and held, for whom he had ruined everything so absolutely.  
  
Only one suggestion came to him as they stood there in the dark, looking over the lake. Charlie didn’t protest as Severus took him in hand and pulled him close, holding him so tightly that his arms started to tremble again.  
  
***  
  
Things had deteriorated quickly once Severus moved to hug him. Charlie had at first cried harder, then slower, with gut wrenching sobs racking his entire body as they stood there. And then, amidst the tears, they’d ended up kissing in the only way that seemed possible – hard and fast and full of emotion, clinging onto one another on one of the open paths around the castle building, where anyone could have found them. They’d realised that at the same time and, hand-in-hand and without speaking, they’d hurried past the greenhouses and in the opposite direction to the lake, to Severus’ staff bungalow.  
  
The door hadn’t even shut before Charlie was on him, quickly divesting him of his formal robes, underclothes and shoes. The redhead was panting, his face full of colour and the smell of earthy sweat emanating from his own clothes. Severus’ fingers were shaking too much to repay the favour of undressing him, something which did not go unnoticed. Charlie had scooped up one hand and pressed his lips to the fingers, looking up at Severus with questioning eyes.  
  
He’d been spared answering by Charlie kissing up his arm and then transferring to his neck, which rendered him speechless regardless.  
  
They had left a trail of clothing into the bedroom, where Charlie had pushed him back onto the bed and then paused to yank off his own clothes. Severus had watched with eager eyes, appreciating every muscle and tattoo as it came into sight. For some reason he had fixated on Charlie’s nipples, which hardened in the cool air of a house which had not been readied for a night at home.  
  
Severus had captured one in between his lips and began to suck. Charlie had groaned and pushed him down onto his back before straddling him.  
  
Their eleven hour fuck-fest, as Charlie had so adequately put it, was nothing compared to the tension crackling between them on the bed. Severus was pinned by Charlie’s larger frame and bulk, which even his recent, sudden weight loss couldn’t diminish completely. They were kissing, moaning and kissing again, their mouths finding each other’s skin when they broke apart. Severus cupped his hands at the base of Charlie’s skull and wrapped his legs around Charlie’s hips.  
  
Both of them moaned at the sudden, unavoidable contact between their groins. Charlie mirrored his own hardness. Expert hips began to rock back and forth and Severus arched his back, feeling wanton and hideous in one go. He had never been confident in sexual engagements. He felt awkward and ugly, especially up against such a specimen as Charlie – that was why his bar was usually set far, far lower.  
  
But to be rubbing against such beauty created a certain fire in his belly. If Charlie found him unattractive the sentiment was invisible. He bent his head and licked a stripe over one of Severus’ own nipples. His gasp of pleasure was rewarded by the same action on the other nipple.  
  
“You make me feel like I’m a god,” Charlie whispered seductively in his ear. “Every time I touch you, you shiver as though you’ve never been touched before.”  
“I might as well not have been.” Severus winced at the scraping throatiness of his reply. He sounded whorish.  
  
Charlie smiled the first real smile then that Severus had seen on him in weeks, even perhaps at all since he’d come to Hogwarts for the dragons. It lit up his face.  
  
He leant down and kissed Severus hard on the mouth and left Severus wanting more when he quickly pulled away again.  
  
Suddenly fear flooded him that Charlie would bolt; his fingers gripped the man’s tattooed, muscled upper arms hard enough to bruise. Charlie frowned at him.  
  
“Don’t leave me,” Severus whispered, and then mentally kicked himself. That was not what he had meant to say. “Don’t go,” he corrected with a swallow. “Please.”  
  
Charlie sniffed slightly and remained hovering above Severus. It seemed as though he was deep in thought, but when a coolness splashed over his scrotum it became apparent just what Charlie was doing. He had one hand free and must have cast a spell to prepare himself for entry. He was on top. Severus nearly lost control when he realised that Charlie was planning to sit on him, to be face to face whilst they fucked.  
  
He flung an arm out to the side and managed to pull open the drawer on the bedside cabinet. He fumbled inside for a good while until he found it, the lubricant he’d bought from the seedy looking shop in a back lane off Knockturn Alley. Inside it was perfectly fine, but the Wizarding world always seemed content to pretend that sex didn’t happen and that anything to do with it should be kept safely squirrelled away. He brought the lubricant to Charlie’s hand and pressed it on him.  
  
Charlie popped the cap and put some of the liquid in his palm. He gently took hold of Severus and slid his hand from root to tip, working over every ridge and bump it met. Severus fought to cling onto his control. The lubricant was special, made to enhance sensation. Even just the thought of what it would feel like to be buried inside Charlie’s body was enough to bring him to the edge.  
  
“Okay?” Charlie was panting, sweat back on his brow. Severus looked between them and saw that he was achingly hard, with pearly liquid bubbling at the head of his slit. He nodded his ascent and palmed his cock before prising it upright for ease.  
  
Charlie hissed as he started to sink down onto him, his face screwed up with concentration and desire. There was something so beautiful about his intensity that for a moment Severus could only see and focus on it, and not the tightness enveloping his erection.  
  
Breaking out in deep gasps, Charlie continued to sink down with a pace which worried Severus. The last thing he wanted was for Charlie to hurt himself and then have to deal with the consequences. But the redhead seemed to take it wholly in his stride, coming to a halt when the flesh of his buttocks met Severus’ own skin. His chest heaved as he lowered himself to rest an elbow either side of Severus’ head.  
  
They kissed softly, respecting each other’s noses and the newness of their position. Severus brought his hands up and smoothed his fingertips down Charlie’s back. There was no noise other than their breath, the castle far away and completely forgotten. Severus let his fingers creep into the hair at the nape of Charlie’s neck. It was hot and tangled but felt comforting to touch.  
  
When Charlie began to move, Severus had a feeling of impending embarrassment as his climax started to build quickly and intensively.  
  
It didn’t help when his free hand seemed to find Charlie’s cock without instruction and the man above him choked and slipped off rhythm.  
  
“F-fuck.” The word was more of a stuttered grunt and, as it was, became the beginning of the end.  
  
There was little point fighting it with Charlie dissolving above him and his own stamina already ripped to shreds. Severus could only remember two other times when his entire body had shaken from head to toe. The night of Lily’s death and the night of his near-death. He felt so limp and useless as he lay there, losing his control in great involuntary pulses into the body of the man whose life he’d ruined with his jealous nature.  
  
Hot ejaculate landed on the skin of his abdomen and that was it. Nothing else existed beyond the two of them, sweaty and trembling as one on his bed.  
  
It was a moment of sublime perfection which he doubted they would ever recreate. His very blood seemed to be burning through his veins. Charlie landed face first in the space between his shoulder and his head and settled his weight gently onto Severus’ chest.  
  
“’M sorry,” he murmured dazedly.  
“For what?” Severus breathed.  
  
Charlie didn’t answer, but the kisses he planted on Severus’ throat sent tingles through his spent body.  
  


* * *

  
  
Charlie crept around in the darkness trying to find his clothes. He thought his watch said that it was five in the morning, and if that true he was already behind schedule. For one thing, he was going to have to try and get into Shell Cottage without waking up any of the kids, the adults or the animals if he wanted to retrieve his belongings and travelling clothes.  
  
It was hard, groping around on the carpet for his strewn robes, to get the night he’d just had out of his mind. Severus had given himself so much freely than he ever had before, had been so much warmer than Charlie had ever imagined.  
  
It was not how he had planned for the evening to go. He’d certainly not planned on losing his shit and crying all over Severus before shagging him senseless and falling asleep with the man’s cock still in his body.  
  
At some point between falling asleep and waking at five, he remembered a mumbled conversation full of sentimental pillow whispers that he was sure would mortify Severus come the dawn.  
  
Finally his fingers closed around some fabric which seemed a likely suspect. He got to his feet and shook it out. He didn’t have time to find every individual piece of his robes but enough to cover his body would be fine, as long as he was decent enough to make it to the school gates where he could apparate back to Tinworth.  
  
He threw the basic under robe over his head and wiggled into it. When he had done up most of the buttons he could find, he started feeling around with his foot for his boots.  
  
Then the space around him blared into colour as candles flamed to life.  
  
“You’re leaving?” Severus asked hoarsely, clutching a sheet close to his body.  
  
The sight of him standing there with the white cotton against his pale skin, his dark hair a complete mess and making him look so very vulnerable made Charlie’s mouth dry out.  
  
“I’m… I’m going away,” Charlie said. He looked down at his feet.  
“Where? For how long?”  
  
Charlie bit back the answer he had ready. Instead he turned and looked for his boots in the plentiful light. He had put them on and picked up his wand before Severus spoke again.  
  
“Charlie. Please, tell me where you’re going and how long you’ll be gone.”  
“I…” He didn’t really want to say. He didn’t want to jinx what seemed like his only option. “I can’t say. And I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It might be permanent.”  
  
He glanced at Severus and wished he hadn’t. The wizard’s expression was unbearable – a mix of anger, pain and disappointment.  
  
Thinking back to the evening before, indifference at that moment would have been worse still.  
  
“You don’t have to go,” Severus said. “Things will settle down here. We can find you another job, something to do… and we… we can…”  
“I don’t want ‘something to do’,” Charlie said sadly. “I want to carry on with my calling, Severus.”  
  
He located his tie and his pants and stuffed them into his pocket.  
  
“And your calling… your dragons. Do they provide you with security and comfort? Do they look after you emotionally? Do they love you as much as you love them, Charlie?”  
  
He had no answer for that. He wasn’t in the mood for debate. Charlie put one hand on the front door to pull it open, but couldn’t resist one last look back over his shoulder.  
  
“Do they love you as much as I could love you?” Severus asked fervently.  
“Probably not. But at the very least, they’ve never hurt me like you hurt me.”  
“Your hand begs to differ.”  
  
He was stalling. Charlie knew he had to leave soon or he never would. And he wanted Australia too much to risk missing his chance.  
  
But as he pulled open the door, it was with an ache in his chest that put him at odds with what he thought he wanted.  
  
“Last night meant everything,” he said as he stepped over the threshold. “Thank you, Severus.”  
  
He closed the door.

  
_What would I do without your smart mouth?  
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out  
You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down  
What's going on in that beautiful mind  
I'm on your magical mystery ride  
And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright._ \- All Of Me, John Legend


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content / Warnings: Language, angst, suicidal ideation.

Charlie wasn’t sure how he felt. The two days it had taken to get to Australia had really taken their toll on him and he was bone tired. He realised that he should have slept over another night along the way and not be faced with rolling into his interview with a throbbing head and no idea what the time was.  
  
He dunked his face into the sink of water he’d run and hoped it would wake him up a bit. When he surfaced he blinked at himself in Max’s mirror, seeing that same tired face with purple bruises beneath the eyes. His hair was as impossible as ever. There was no point in trying to tame it for the interview.  
  
He let the water air dry on his face. Max’s keeper’s cabin was cool but outside Australia was hotter than he was used to.  
  
“You look rough as a badger’s arse,” he told himself matter-of-factly. “Godric.”  
  
He glanced down at his watch and with a jolt saw he only had five minutes to get across the reserve to the main buildings, where the management were housed and where meetings were held.  
  
Charlie grabbed his wand from the side of the sink and mentally shook himself as he walked through the cabin. They were nice, much nicer than he had ever had in Romania but on a par with what he’d lived in at Dartmoor. He slipped back outside into the sunshine and warmth and inhaled. The place had a special smell which he hadn’t expected. It had all the usual dragon reserve scents – wood, greenery, smoke, dragon dung… but something else more exotic and entirely fitting to the heat.  
  
A bawdy laugh rang out somewhere close to him, followed by a cheer. A loud bang sounded shortly afterwards. There was more laughter. It felt like somewhere that he could settle.  
  
He enjoyed the walk through the reserve to the main buildings. They were old and sturdy as they came into view, reminding him somewhat of Hogwarts. History bore down on him as he passed through the main doors which had brightly coloured stained glass dragons set within them. He smelt the familiar residual stench of a food hall somewhere nearby as he peered around the lobby.  
  
“Charlie Weasley?”  
“Yes.”  
  
All of a sudden, he was terrified. He’d not had a proper interview for years.  
  
He shook the hand of a wizard who towered over him and who wore a genial smile.  
  
“Follow me.”  
  
***  
  
The drop was staggering. It took Charlie’s breath away and he wasn’t afraid of heights.  
  
He didn’t remember how he’d got there, to the edge of the cliff, but all he knew was the view of the bright blue of the sea, the sun in the sky and the drop beneath his dangling feet.  
  
His head, which had been so full and angry of late, was blissfully empty and peaceful. He was comforted by the sounds of the seagulls crying over the sea and the waves crashing against the rocks under the cliff. By all accounts he should have been furious with himself and desperate to go back and make a better impression – to win over the people who had been so keen to meet him.  
  
But the reality was that he had completely choked. He’d sat there dumbfounded by nearly every question they asked him and what he could reply to, he answered in short, monosyllabic sentences. His voice hadn’t sounded like his own.  
  
 _You royally fucked that one up._  
  
With so much riding on it, Charlie couldn’t understand why the anger hadn’t come. Why he wasn’t torn up by his own failings and the disappointment. But there he sat, his legs dangling over a ledge, unable to think about anything more than how gorgeous the view was.  
  
The view, and how one nudge forward too many would see him splattered over the rocks at the bottom. He knew he wasn’t in his right mind when that thought became rather comforting.  
  
He’d never had suicidal thoughts before, not even fleeting ones. He’d known people who were suicidal, he’d wondered how they could be so willing to leave behind something as precious as life.  
  
As he peered over the edge again, it suddenly struck him that maybe those people were suicidal because life was too much, that to die was to escape. To finally quieten the madness.  
  
He certainly understood how appealing _that_ prospect was.  
  
He leant forward as far as he could without his backside lifting from the rock.  
  
“CHARLIE!”  
  
The bellow made him jump and lurch back. His pulse kicked up a notch as a stone, nudged by his hand, went sailing off the edge of the cliff and shattered when it hit the waiting rocks.  
  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Max’s voice was panicked and coming ever closer.  
  
Charlie looked back over the edge again.  
  
 _Now or never._  
  
It seemed apt to him that in the time he took deliberating over whether he should jump or not, Max had grabbed him under the armpits and started dragging him away from the ledge.  
  
“Ow,” he grumbled, as one of his calves was dragged over a jagged stone. “Get off.”  
“I’ll get off if you come away from that fucking edge!” Max cried, sounding somewhat hysterical. Charlie looked up at him in surprise.  
“Do you know what it looks like when people hit those rocks?”  
“Gross?” Charlie shrugged.  
“Awful.”  
“Thanks for the information.”  
  
Max looked at him like he’d gone mad, and Charlie had to acknowledge that it was a probability rather than a possibility. Eventually Max seemed content that they were far enough from the cliff face and threw himself down on the ground next to Charlie.  
  
“What happened?” he asked softly, reaching down to play with one of his bootlaces.  
“I fucked it up.” Charlie scratched his head. “Couldn’t get my mouth in gear. It was pretty shit.”  
“It must have been, because I have it on good authority from the girl in HR that they’d even printed a contract ready and waiting for you to sign it. It was as good as done, Charlie… what the fuck did you say?”  
“Nothing.”  
“You must have said something to change their minds…”  
“No, I mean I said nothing. They asked me questions. I couldn’t answer. I must’ve looked mental.”  
“Which, considering where I’ve just found you, isn’t surprising, because I think you _are_ mental.”  
  
There was a loud sigh from his old friend and Charlie purposefully looked away from him.  
  
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Max said. “That you didn’t get it.”  
“Maybe I didn’t want to get it.”  
“Are you mad?”  
“We’ve already established that, Max. No. I mean I fluffed the interview because deep down I didn’t really want the job. I didn’t want to move out here. It’s beautiful. But I don’t think it’s what I want.”  
“Well, what do you want then? You said that there was nothing for you back in the UK. That you were desperate to get out.”  
“Well… I am. Or I’m not. I really don’t know. But I don’t think this was right either.”  
“You’re throwing away something amazing.” Max was whining at him. He turned to Charlie. “Look… I mean… it’s amazing here, look at that view. The work is a doddle, the employers are good. And you would be out of the mess in England… I could get you a second interview, Charlie. But you would have to promise that this time, this time you’d do it properly.”  
  
Charlie looked down at his legs.  
  
“And maybe… maybe if you moved back out here… we could…”  
  
It took Charlie a few moments to realise what was going on - what was being suggested.  
“Are you kidding me?” Charlie laughed. “You’re seriously trying it on at this moment?”  
  
Max had the good grace to look embarrassed. Charlie shook his head.  
  
“Can I be friends with _anyone_ without them wanting to sleep with me?”  
“In my defence, once upon a time you were the one that hit on me. And definitely wanted to sleep with me.”  
“Well, things have moved on, I’m older, and I want different things.”  
“Like what?”  
  
Charlie hesitated, unsure of how his confession would land. “I want a family,” he said quietly. “I want to have someone to go home to and wake up to and be with.”  
“You want children?”  
  
Shrugging, Charlie thought about it. “Maybe. But… maybe not. That’s not what I’m thinking of when I say family.”  
“Most people think of children when they say they want a family.”  
“Well, I’m not most people.”  
“But-”  
“Fuck it Max, this isn’t up for discussion.”  
  
There was a lull in the conversation, both of them listening to the seagulls and the sea.  
  
“So who is he then?”  
  
Charlie sighed and finally got to his feet. His bones were aching.  
  
“There isn’t anybody in particular,” he lied. “I’m going to go home.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Severus was still stinging from the embarrassment of Charlie leaving him covered only by a sheet in his hallway.  
  
But it was nothing compared to the worry. The all-encompassing worry of where Charlie was and what he was doing. His family were beside themselves, and undulating wave of flaming red hair and troubled expressions.  
  
Their concern wasn’t undue in his opinion. He felt it himself: a constant, niggling pain in his stomach which peaked at strange times and caught him off guard.  
  
For four days there had been no word nor sighting of Charlie Weasley and, as only Severus knew, he was the last person to have seen him.  
  
To confess that, he had to confess that they’d been alone together in his house. And perhaps other things which Severus had no desire to talk about with the family of the man he’d fucked and enjoyed so thoroughly.  
  
Determined not to let his thoughts slide towards that whilst he was still in the castle, Severus straightened his sore back and put the cap back on his ink bottle. One day he would remember that as much as he enjoyed setting too much homework at Easter, he still had to mark it.  
  
 _One day, you will not be an idiot._  
  
He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and distinguished the few candles still alight. He glanced at his watch and did a double take at the time. It was one in the morning. _Marking should never be that enthralling._ He made his way up into the Entrance Hall and paused to listen. So early in the morning there was nothing to hear. He slipped through one of the smaller hidden doors to the right of the main entryway to avoid risking the alarms.  
  
The night had a chill to it as it shrouded him and he moved quickly, looking forward to a hot drink in a warm bed and some chapters of his book, despite the late hour.  
  
 _How thrilling my life is._  
  
As he walked, pulling his robes and cloak tight about his body, he couldn’t help but wonder how different his life would be if he had someone to share it with at that point. That the person in his mind had Charlie’s face wasn’t of importance – or at least, he told himself it wasn’t. He found himself imagining things he had not dreamt of since he was a teenager: a family, merry Yuletides full of love, food and laughter, the complex joy he would feel from knowing his soul had bonded with another…  
  
He thought of birthdays, of holidays, of ordinary weekend nights in each other’s company. How he would cook and they’d drink wine together until the small hours.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Severus looked up from the grass and flinched in shock. Leaning against his front door, looking travel-worn and weary, was Charlie.  
  
“Where’ve you been?” the redhead asked. His teeth chattered a little, distorting the words.  
“One could ask the same of you. Everyone’s been beside themselves with worry.”  
“I’ve been to Australia, and then I’ve sat here waiting on your doorstep for three hours.”  
“I was marking.” Severus batted away the feelings of guilt which sprung up. “I had no idea.”  
  
Charlie shook his head and stood up properly. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”  
“And why does it matter where I am? Last I heard, you were going away, possibly for good… and you left me feeling deeply humiliated in my own house. Why would you assume I’m going to let you in?”  
“I don’t assume anything.” Charlie looked down at his feet. “But I was _hoping_ you’d let me in and make me a cup of tea and let me explain myself.”  
“Is it an explanation I want to hear?”  
  
There was a frustrated moan and Charlie’s beautiful face disappeared behind his fingers. They were shaking, like his jaw.  
  
“Come inside,” Severus said finally, stepping round Charlie’s bulk to reach the front door.  
  
It was cold within and he shivered as he shrugged out of his cloak and hung it on the stand in the hallway. Charlie kept his coat on as he wandered into the sitting room. Severus followed him and used his wand to light the fire. The redhead sat down on the sofa and stared at the wall.  
  
“Are you… are you all right, Charlie?” Severus neglected his date with the kettle in favour of sitting down by Charlie’s side. “You look tired.”  
“I _am_ tired.” Charlie licked his lips. “I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of not knowing what to do next. I’m tired of trying to be someone I’m not any more. I’m just… I’m just tired.”  
“What are you trying to be that you aren’t?”  
“Happy. Coping alone. Wanting to spend my life working without anyone to come home to. I don’t want that.”  
  
Severus swallowed on a throat which had been aching ever since the man sitting next to him had broken his nose. His heart thudded along in his chest, his pulse in his ears. Whatever anger he felt towards Charlie for the way they’d last parted, he was overcome with sympathy for the wizard.  
  
He too knew what it was like to have finally reached the point where he was no longer himself, but another man entirely with different dreams, wishes and hopes. He’d never thought he could change so completely and Charlie, it seemed, hadn’t thought so either. Ignoring his better judgment, Severus put one hand on top of Charlie’s and squeezed it. Without further invitation, Charlie leant into his side and put his head on Severus’ shoulder.  
  
The natural response was to bring his other arm up about Charlie’s upper back, which Severus did. They ended up slumped against the back of the sofa together, with Severus tilting his head so that his cheek lay on top of the wild nest of Charlie’s hair. The heat from the fire reached them after a short while. Severus stretched his legs out in front of them.  
  
“I went to Australia,” Charlie said softly. “My friend got me a job out there. But I fucked up the interview, so I didn’t get it.”  
“Could you have gone any further?” Severus asked dryly. “Was I that terrible in bed?”  
  
It was a weak joke and Charlie didn’t laugh.  
  
“You were what made it so hard to go. And why I think I fucked it all up.”  
“Please, Charlie. I’ve had enough blame placed on me in my life. I don’t need that as well.”  
“No… I’m not blaming you. I did it because I knew that if I was out there, then there would be nothing between us if you were here.”  
“And… you want there to be something between us? Given… what I did?”  
  
Charlie didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, it was with an emotive croak to his tone. “Maybe you did me a favour. What I wasn’t brave enough to do. No marriage or relationship can survive the involvement of a dragon reserve unless both participants happen to work in the same one. It’s too demanding… on your time, on your mental capacity, on your physical strength. Everything falls to pot.”  
  
“We manage fine at that without dragon reserves.”  
“Exactly.”  
“So… where does this leave us, Charlie?  
“It leaves us sitting here, together, for now.”  
“And then?”  
  
Charlie looked up at him. “You betrayed me in the worst way possible. You ruined everything I’ve ever cherished.”  
“And Merlin knows I will atone for that for the rest of my days if need be. I have said I’m sorry, Charlie.”  
“And I accepted that apology… but it doesn’t change that damage was done. That trust… trust might be an issue.”  
“I will never knowingly hurt you again. You have my word.”  
  
Charlie laughed then and Severus frowned.  
  
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Severus.” Charlie sat up and kissed his shoulder. “Nobody should make promises they can’t keep.”  
“Well here’s another promise instead, then. I will look after you. I will love you. I will do everything in my power to protect you and to give you what you deserve. Merlin knows I’ve not done that so far, but let me show you that I can be a man who isn’t entirely repugnant.”  
  
Charlie looked at him but didn’t say anything.  
  
“Charlie.” Severus felt desperate. Charlie wore an expression of sorrow and intrinsic weariness.  
  
“I don’t think you’re repugnant. I never have.”  
“Then what is it?”  
“I don’t want you to change yourself for me. I don’t want you to be a man who makes big speeches and bigger declarations. I want you to be you.”  
“But the person I am ruined your life. I am… at best tolerable. At worst, severely unpleasant.”  
“Well if you ruined it, you can put it right again.”  
  
Severus’ argument was swallowed up by the kiss that Charlie gave him. Fingers curled into his hair and took hold, causing prickles to run down the back of his neck. Charlie cut the kiss short but stayed close, resting their foreheads together.  
  
“I don’t want you to change, because then you wouldn’t be the Severus I know. The Severus who, despite his nasty mouth, has had my attention since I was a teenager.”  
“You always were an odd boy.”  
“Still am.”  
  
Back aching from his twisted position, Severus tried to straighten up and betrayed himself with a pained groan.  
  
“I’m not as young as I once was,” he explained hastily. “And I’ve been marking all evening.”  
  
Charlie released him and got to his feet. “I’m filthy. I need a wash.”  
“It’s late.” Severus stifled a yawn behind his hand.  
“Oh... right.” Charlie shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I’ll leave you to get to bed then.”  
“Absolutely fucking not.”  
  
Severus stood up and stalked up to Charlie. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight again, you’re very much mistaken. You might run away to Australia again.”  
“I came back.” Charlie flashed him a half-grin.  
“Your family are going to have you over a barrel.”  
“I’d much rather you did.”  
  
And there, with a quick flash of his eyes and a grin, was the Charlie who had been so absent since he had first returned to Hogwarts.  
  
“That can be arranged, you know.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Severus.” Charlie gently shook the sleeping wizard next to him. “Wake up.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I need to go, but I thought if I tried to leave without telling you again, you might have a shit fit.”  
  
There was a lot of undecipherable grumbling going on, but Severus eventually rolled over and peered up at him.  
  
“I need to go and see my mum.”  
“Is everything okay?” Severus rose up on one elbow. “Are you-“  
“I’m fine.” Charlie leant forward and kissed his forehead. “I am. I just need to go and see my mum and have a chat about a few things.”  
“Will I be mentioned?”  
“Probably. Is that a problem?”  
  
There was a pause before Severus gave a tiny shake of his head. Charlie kissed him on the lips to express his gratitude.  
  
“I’ll come back,” he promised, before he rolled off the bed and looked around for his clothes.  
  
By the time he’d had a shower hot enough to take the top layer of skin off, they’d rolled into bed at around half two. Both minds had been willing for more but once the bed took his weight, Charlie had been glad that Severus had become just as drowsy and seemed as content to simply lie down together and fall asleep.  
  
“Do you promise that?”  
“I promise.”  
  
He stepped into his jeans and pulled them up around his waist. Buttoning them, they slid a fair way down his hips. Severus was watching him with narrowed eyes. Charlie presumed that it was the combination of toplessness, faded denim and a messy rip on one thigh which proved attractive to the older wizard  
  
“Stop perving on me,” Charlie teased.  
  
The bed creaked and footsteps shuffled over the carpet. Charlie found himself blinking dumbly as the curtains flew open, flooding the room with light. Severus sauntered over to him and let his forefinger trail down until it rested in Charlie’s belly button.  
  
Charlie had no idea why it was sexy, but it was.  
  
“I need to go,” he said softly. “I have to go and see my mum. Talk some stuff through.”  
“I know.” Severus gave him a small smile. “But after last time, I think you’ve rather ruined me for goodbyes, to be honest.”  
“I’ll come back.”  
  
***  
“Your brothers are going to lynch you,” his mum said matter-of-factly before locking him in a hug. She only came up to his nipples. “Doing a disappearing act like that again. Bill’s been beside himself. We all have.”  
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said emphatically, and gave her a tight squeeze in his arms.  
  
She pulled back and looked at him, wearing the shrewd expression she always wore when she was trying to read his mind. As a teenager he’d been convinced she was a skilled Occlumens, but age made him realise that Molly Weasley simply knew her children inside and out, better than they knew themselves.  
  
“Come and sit down,” she said, stepping away. She gestured to the table and re-belted her dressing gown. “Breakfast? Coffee? Tea?”  
“Tea would be good.”  
  
He sat down at the battered old wooden table and propped his chin on the heel of his hand. The table was so old and so battered, but was still the centre point of the family kitchen. He thought of all the meals eaten there, all the cups of tea drunk whilst bleary eyed, frightened, shocked – every emotion possible had been felt around the old kitchen table. He could remember doing an emergency change of Ron’s nappy on the table and the little bastard pissing in his face. He couldn’t help but smile, remembering that.  
  
“Here we are then.” His mother pushed a steaming mug of tea towards him and sat down directly opposite him. She blew on her own tea and waited for him to speak.  
“I just wanted to…”  
  
She looked at him expectantly.  
  
“I went for a job in Australia.”  
“Oh?”  
“I fucked up the interview though. Came home again.”  
“So that’s where you were. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”  
  
Charlie shrugged and blew on his tea.  
  
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m very glad you’re not moving to Australia. Romania was far enough to begin with.”  
“I can’t keep running away.”  
“What are you running from?”  
“What I don’t have. What I want.”  
“And what do you want?”  
  
Charlie hesitated in answering. He took a few deep breaths. “I want to settle down. With a man who loves me and who isn’t going to chuck me for someone else. Someone who wants more than a fun muck around because I’m the guy that people muck around with.”  
  
His mum watched him with big, amber-brown eyes which Charlie recognised as similar to his own. They were earnest and kind – just like people said his were.  
  
“I wanted to come here and say something, because I’ve never said it outright to you before and I think I owe you it.”  
“Well _I_ think I know what’s coming and you owe me nothing, Charlie. I’m your mum. I love you regardless of everything, including those tattoos you think I’m so blind I can’t see.”  
  
Heat pooled in his cheeks and Charlie looked down at his mug of tea. “I’m gay, mum.”  
  
“I know. I’ve known for years. You never exactly made a secret of it.”  
“I know but… I didn’t say anything and I should have. You know sometimes, you leave something unsaid and you know you have to go back and put it right by saying it? That’s how I feel, for never really telling you that I was gay. That I was in relationships with men and you never knew.”  
  
“Sometimes, we feel an overwhelming pressure to tell our parents everything when we don’t have to. Charlie, all I care about is that you’re happy and that you’re well. That’s all.”  
“I don’t remember you being this accepting of Fleur at first.” Charlie shot her a cheeky grin.  
“Well, she was a tad precious, dear. But now she’s one of us and I adore her. Sometimes it takes time… but I never judged Bill for his decision to go out with her, or his decision to propose to her. And you won’t find me judging you, either, whomever you decide to settle down with.”  
  
She smiled at him and drank some tea. Charlie felt as though a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders and chest.  
  
“So, who is he then?” She asked conversationally after a moment or two of silence.  
“How do you know there’s someone?”  
“Because you purposefully mucked up a job interview in Australia, which the Charlie Weasley of a few years ago – the one who could be eaten alive by wanderlust – would never have done. Something stopped you from committing to that job. Who?”  
  
Charlie bit into his bottom lip. His mother immediately chastised him for it. The familiarity of it made him feel better.  
  
“I’m not really sure how you’ll take it.”  
“Is it a Muggle? Because you know I don’t care about that.”  
“No, not a Muggle. You know him. The whole family knows him. Most of them don’t like him, though.”  
“Just tell me, Charlie. Spit it out my love.”  
  
He put his mug to his lips and muttered ‘Severus Snape’ into the china.  
  
“Really?”  
“Really.”  
“Okay.”  
“Okay?” he asked uncertainly.  
“If he makes you happy, and it’s what you want… though Bill told me what happened, Charlie. That it was him that reported you to the Ministry. Are you sure about this?”  
“More sure than I’ve been of anything for a good few years now.”  
“Well, you’ve always known your mind. It’s not for me to question you. If you’re happy then I’ll be happy.”  
“I’m not happy.” Charlie shook his head. “But I think I can be, with him.”  
“Good.”  
  
They both took deep gulps of tea; Charlie wondered if his mother was feeling as emotional as he was.  
  
“I nearly did something stupid in Australia,” he blurted, and then wished he’d kept his trap shut.  
“What?”  
“I sat on the edge of a cliff and wondered what it would be like if I just… fell off it.”  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath. He couldn’t bring himself to look up. He had no idea why he’d even said it. He’d certainly not told Severus of his strange and fleeting dalliance with the idea of suicide.  
  
He jumped when a hand began to stroke his hair. He turned and pressed his face into his mother’s dressing gown – a garment which smelt so familiar it made his lungs burn and ache for home, even though he was already sitting in it. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her petting his hair.  
  
“If I have to lose another of you, I will crack.” Her tone was loaded. “I will not go through that again. If you ever feel that way again, no matter what time of the day or night, you come home, Charlie. And I’ll be here, and we’ll get through it together.”  
“I don’t even know why I did it,” he mumbled. “I’ve never thought about it before. Not even after the worst sort of break up…”  
  
“Perhaps you’re right, then. You can be happy with Severus Snape. He’s what you’re truly meant to have.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Remus wasn’t enough to keep you in the country. You attempted long distance. But you went all the way to Australia to pass up on a job opportunity and come straight back. Doesn’t that tell you something?”  
“I don’t know.”  
  
Charlie reached up and rubbed at his nose. His mum kept on stroking his hair and he let her, because it felt like he was tiny again, being soothed after the death of another ill-adapted experiment at keeping a wild animal as a pet.  
  
“Do you remember the time I tried to keep a squirrel in our wardrobe and it ate through Bill’s new Hogwarts robes?” he blurted, unable to keep from chuckling.  
“I remember every animal you ever ‘rescued’,” she responded ruefully. “Especially the ones that chewed things.”  
  
***  
It felt right to visit. He’d not been for so long.  
  
“Just as you always liked,” he said conversationally to the gravestone, and then shook his head in disbelief.  
  
It had made sense to apportion part of the castle grounds as a graveyard to lay to rest those who fell trying to protect it. Not all of the casualties of the Battle were buried there, but there were enough headstones to make a person feel the sadness all over again.  
  
Some of the people commemorated there had died years before. Next to the headstone of Remus’ grave stood one for Sirius Black, a grave which had never been dug and only bore the outer casings of a place to mourn. Charlie felt nauseous, as he always did, thinking of the bones beneath his feet – the only remains of two people he’d loved dearly. Fred, too, was nearby and long gone in any sort of recognisable form.  
  
A shiver passed down his spine as his eyes came to rest on the single roses he had placed on each grave.  
  
“Fresh roses… just like you always liked,” he repeated to Tonks. He was sure she was listening. “Because magically grown plants never smell right.”  
  
He nodded to her and smiled. He looked at Remus’ grave and it struck him how apt it was that Remus was, finally, in death alone, sandwiched between the two people he had loved the most in life. Perhaps that had been calculated. Perhaps someone, like Charlie himself, wanted Remus to have the ending he deserved.  
  
With his eyes threatening to become waterlogged, Charlie pulled himself together and swallowed. He whispered the old Latin blessing that wizards said over their dead and turned on his heel. He exited the graveyard at speed and let the gate clang shut behind him. He stopped dead as he heard a familiar laugh, one which had followed him through the corridors of Hogwarts, into his bed, into his adult life and into his memories.  
  
“You’re going fucking nuts,” he told himself after a moment’s pause and no noise.  
  
He hurried over the lawns, ignoring the ‘keep off the grass’ signs and wondered whether Filch was too arthritic to chase students for rule-breaking. He _felt_ like a student as he moved, stretching his limbs and letting his blood pump in a way he’d neglected since returning to Hogwarts. He’d barely done any exercise and by Godric did he feel it as his calves began to burn and his breath came in shallow pants. He had to lean against the stairs to the Entrance Hall before he could go up them.  
  
Feeling dizzy, Charlie let his feet take him where they liked. It wasn’t really a surprise when he ended up in a chilly dungeon corridor. He heard the familiar low muttering of a Potions lesson in play coming from a nearby classroom.  
  
Behind that door stood the man who could be everything – his future and life all rolled into one. Charlie banged his fist on the door without thinking.  
  
“Enter.” The call was silky and somewhat bored.  
  
Charlie opened the door and found twenty one pairs of eyes staring in his direction through the fog of the cauldrons. Severus looked at him with a horrified expression and hurried to the doorway.  
  
“Is something the matter?”  
“No. I just wanted to see someone I care about that isn’t dead.”  
“Charlie, I’m _teaching_.” There was a warning in Severus’ tone.  
“I know. I’m sorry. I just… needed to see you.”  
  
For a moment he thought he was going to get an ear bashing, but something in Severus’ expression softened and a tiny sigh escaped his lips.  
  
“I wanted to see you too,” he whispered.  
“I’ll be at yours,” Charlie informed him.  
“I’ll see you as soon as lessons are over for the day.”  
“Okay.”  
  
It was clear that he’d been dismissed, but still Charlie loitered in the doorway of his lover’s classroom. Behind Severus the students were oddly still and quiet, clearly craning for any snippet of gossip they could hear.  
  
They all jumped when the bell screeched out above their heads.  
  
“Wait in my office,” Severus muttered before retreating to the head of the glass to give instructions about homework and the correct way to preserve their potions for further work in the next lesson.  
  
It made Charlie smile to hear it, almost as if he was sixteen again, hanging off the raven-haired wizard’s every word, simply because he liked to hear him speak. Charlie ambled along the corridor to the small office that Severus still kept within the castle walls. It surprised him that the door opened to his touch, but Severus would never have sent him there if he would be denied entry. He crossed the room and sat down behind the desk. It felt odd to sit behind one. He’d never done that in his life.  
  
He leant back and closed his eyes. By the time Severus caught up with him, he was nearly asleep.  
  
“Might I remind you that nothing travels faster in this school than gossip?”  
“Gossip and chlamydia,” Charlie deadpanned.  
  
He was rewarded with a small snort of amusement and he dared to open his eyes. Severus was staring at him with an exasperated expression and his arms folded.  
  
“I shouldn’t have interrupted you,” Charlie conceded. “But… I just needed to see your face, Severus.”  
“God only knows why you’d want to.”  
  
Charlie got to his feet and went straight in for a hug, which was granted.  
  
“I came back,” he pointed out sheepishly.  
“So I see.”  
  
Severus kissed him.  
  
“I’m so glad, Charlie”  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
